


Another Deception

by MamzelleSouris



Series: Growing up Decepticon [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Body Modification, Child Soldiers, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fear, Force-Feeding, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 153,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleSouris/pseuds/MamzelleSouris
Summary: Starscream was imprisoned by Megatron before the end of the war, but the war is now over, so where is he? And what are the seekers currently sitting in the brig hiding?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plot bunny for this fic originally came from a Kinkmeme prompt, which somehow mutated into this. How I am not sure.  
> I now have a beta reader! The amazing CheerfullyMorbid has sorted the errors out. 
> 
> It doesn't contain any smut, but warnings apply for emotional manipulation, child soldiers, claustrophobia, torture and it's recovery. Please use your best judgement when reading! Feedback is always appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a beginning.

He wondered vaguely how long he had been here. He had a strange idea that it had been a long time. Certainly he had a lot of memory files, but they were all the same. Was it a very long time? Or was it just one memory file which had become corrupted, and duplicated multiple times? The number on his chronometer was meaningless--it had glitched badly during one of his early struggles, and now operated only sporadically. He had never prioritised its repair. Secretly, he did not want to know how long he had been here for.

It certainly felt like it had been a long time.

Starscream stared at the featureless darkness in front of him. The space was just sufficient for him to move his arms across his cockpit, although he couldn't stretch them out wide. His peds had no such range of movement, they had been shackled down with heavy chains, and his thrusters disabled. His wings were also pinned, only they were held in place not by chains, but by a couple of thick bolts which had been hammered through the delicate metal. For a long time the pain had been his companion, but the wounds had healed, and only a fine coat of dried energon from the ruptured fuel lines was left. He could not turn his helm, some sort of wedge either side kept him facing straight ahead, and the thin tube which delivered his Energon rested by his audio receptor.

Starscream pulled the tube towards his mouth, sucking hard to encourage the flow of Energon. The stuff was viscous and of very low quality, probably created as a by-product from one of the ships functions. A normally functioning mech could not survive on it for longer than a few cycles, but a mech trapped in a box, with no way of escape, was not using much energy.

A wave of fear hit him suddenly, and he whimpered softly. He had been here a long, long time, of that he was sure, and he was going to deactivate here without anyone ever knowing. It was not a new thought, but it tormented him occasionally, when he least expected it. When the pain had been bad it had been easy to ignore, and push it to the back of his processor, but the pain had gone now, and it was no longer so easy to suppress. He knew that the Decepticons had all but forgotten him, and that, despite what he told himself about malfunctioning chronometers and glitched memory files, he had been here a very, very long time!

Hooking his digits into claws he raked them down the thin metal of his wings, letting pain replace the fear. The ever decreasing core of his sanity warned that this was a temporary respite, and he tore at his wings again, disused vocaliser emitting an eerie howl.

*************

“Anything else?” Optimus Prime asked, preparing to bring the briefing to a close. Since the end of the war, the regular meetings of the Autobot command staff had become less frequent, and endless reports had replaced the tactical discussions and preparing of crew rotas. Bringing Cybertron back to peace and prosperity was a long, sometimes troubled, process, but it was beginning to come together, albeit slowly. The Prime glanced around the table, nodding when his chief medical officer indicated that he had something to add.

“I have a point to raise Prime, it is about our prisoners.” The attention of every mech in the room focused on Ratchet. The imprisonment of the higher ranked Decepticons, pending a properly constituted court to assess their crimes, had been agreed by every Autobot present. After the death of Megatron, the faction had split into several different groups, and rounding up and interrogating them all was an ongoing process. Many had already been released to perform useful tasks rebuilding Cybertron, too thankful to have escaped the ultimate probable fate of their superiors to complain about the restrictions placed upon them.

“I am worried about the effect of captivity on the Decepticon flyers.” Ratchet’s voice interrupted his musing.

“You are being needlessly officious!” announced Red Alert without a trace of irony. “My observations show absolutely nothing to be concerned about. The flyers, and the Seekers in particular, are the only Decepticons who do not cause the security team any problems!”

“That is what worries me!” Ratchet snapped back. “Remember how they behaved when we first brought them in?” Red Alert took on a slightly blank expression as he replayed the cached memory files before answering.

“They required medical attention for self inflicted injuries every orn,” he mused, “but I don’t see why that should worry you.”

“I’ve had no incidents reported by any of the duty medics for a full Earth month,” replied Ratchet, “and I think that there is something seriously wrong.”

“They have just got used to being locked up,” suggested Red Alert, “Nothing to worry about at all.” But Ratchet was shaking his helm in disagreement.

“On what do you base this assumption? Give me facts, Ratchet,” interrupted Optimus before Ratchet could answer. Wordlessly, the medic plugged a data pad into the port of the console in front of him and brought up a hololithic display. There were five images visible, all in compressed real time. The assembled mechs watched, some blankly, some with concern, and Ratchet with a sort of troubled resignation. In the replay Skywarp sat rocking endlessly, servos clenched around his thrusters, his legs drawn up against his cockpit. Thundercracker paced an unvarying track back and forth across his little cell, five regular steps in each direction. Dirge lay on his berth, unmoving, optics gazing unfocussed at the ceiling. Ramjet was seated on the side of his berth, arms hanging limply, also staring at nothing. Thrust was scratching at the metal plates of one wall, dragging his fingers down them in a way which made Optimus very glad that the file had no audio. The footage displayed cycled through a full orn, the Seekers not varying their motions until the energon cube that made up their ration was placed in the cell. Skywarp ignored the energon, but the other four drank it down, uncaring of its low quality. Ratchet stopped the recording.

“That was last orn.” he announced “Red, has Skywarp taken the cube he was given earlier?” Red Alert’s optics unfocussed again as he called up the data.

“No…” he said slowly. Ratchet nodded as if this was what he had expected. “Dirge and Ramjet have also failed to refuel this orn.” All optics in the room turned to Ratchet, who dropped the data pad he had been holding.

“We have a problem here Prime!”

Optimus nodded, “Is this a deliberate hunger strike? If so, how are they coordinating it? They are all in separate cells.” He glanced at Red Alert who nodded sharply, glitch beginning to kick in at the mere suspicion of a security threat. “Jazz.” Optimus turned to his head of intelligence, “Did any of them say anything when they were questioned?”

“’Fraid not!” replied Jazz, after a moment of calling up his own files. “None of ‘em would say anything. Kept their vocalisers muted.” his visor flashed briefly in remembered irritation, “’Cept Thundercracker. He said that no Seeker would speak to ‘n Autobot out of respect for Vos.” An irritated murmur swept the table at that, and the Prime raised his servo for silence.

“Then this hunger strike is some sort of compact, made before the war ended?” Optimus half hoped that this was the case, a hope which was dashed as Ratchet slowly shook his head.

“No I don’t think so Prime. Based on standard behavioural algorithms this isn’t a hunger strike, or even a deliberate refusal to refuel.”

“Then what is it?” asked Optimus.

Ratchet vented a small noise of irritation.

“Records we have, and they are very patchy, suggest that Seekers need to fly. Locking them up is the worst form of torture we could have put them under.” He lowered his gaze to the tabletop. “There were two incidences of seekers being put into spark stasis in the Iacon records. Both previously healthy sparks faded over the course of several orns, before deactivating completely.” He looked up at Optimus, blue optics meeting blue. “These mechs will deactivate if we continue to keep them locked up.”

“Good riddance!” muttered Ironhide. Not quietly enough, as it turned out when Ratchet growled at him, optics flashing with irritation.

“Enough!” the Prime was quick to get between his two lieutenants. While an argument between the two could be amusing, now was not really the time. He focused on Ratchet again, “What do you suggest?”

“Getting them out of solitary confinement would be a start. I’ll be able to see what I’m working with at least.” There was a whimper from Red Alert at that, and Ratchet rounded on the paranoid mech, optics still flashing. “You wouldn’t condone torture, would you?”

“I don’t condone it,” interposed Optimus soothingly, “but I do need to be sure what we are seeing before I commit to any solution. I’m sure Ratchet will liaise with you to figure out how to make sure everything is a safe as possible, Red.” Ratchet nodded sharply, and Red Alert looked somewhat mollified. “If that is all?” there were nods from around the table “Very well, I’ll not keep you from your duties.” Optimus stood, gesturing to his officers to precede him, and subtly laid a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder on the way out. The medic glanced up at the Prime, but obediently hung back, allowing Jazz to exit before him.

“Well?”

“Are you sure about this, Ratchet?” Optimus’s tone was serious. “These are five very dangerous mechs, remember.”

“I’m as sure as I can be, Optimus,” replied Ratchet, shaking his helm. “My coding won’t let me just sit back and do nothing.” He quirked a lopsided grin at his leader. “Besides, Starscream was the really dangerous one, remember? Without him, the others should be easy to control.”

Optimus nodded, and gestured again for Ratchet to precede him out of the conference room. As he walked back to his office, he wondered for perhaps the hundredth time what had happened to Starscream. The lack of their brilliant air commander had been the single biggest reason that the Decepticons had lost the war. Optimus huffed a gust of air from his vents. He privately believed that Starscream had been deactivated by Megatron and that his offline frame was lying at the bottom of the ocean, along with the Decepticon’s erstwhile base of operations. He made a mental note to send a team back to Earth to strip the crashed spaceship within the next quarter vorn. The humans’ technology was not sophisticated enough to enable them to reach the bottom of their oceans yet, but Optimus did not want to leave them with any potential weapons when they finally did. Humanity was far to warlike for its own good.

***************

Ratchet caught up with Red Alert just as the mech reached the door to the control room. The security director gave the medic a sour look as he punched in the code to open the door. Ratchet followed him into the control centre, warily keeping an eye on the other’s sensor horns, which were humming ominously.

“I want you to know I think that this is a horrible idea! What if you are wrong, what if this is a some plot to escape? They are SEEKERS remember, we can’t trust them!” Sparks flashed along Red Alert’s sensor horns, a sure sign that he was becoming glitched and overwrought. Ratchet laid a comforting servo on his shoulder panel.

“I know, Red, but if I am right, and I usually am, we can’t keep them locked up. I know you won’t condone torture, not really.”

“But they are SEEKERS!” Red Alert exclaimed again, and the way he spat the last word made it sound like a curse. Ratchet remembered that Red had lived in Praxius and, unbidden, the images of deactivated seeker frames in the ruins of the city came to him. Those images had been widely circulated at the start of the war, showing that Decepticons could not be trusted if this was what their mechs would do. There had been dark hints that Megatron had been behind the bombing of Vos, and that he had done it to ensure that the Autobots would never gain the support of the flyers. Ratchet resolutely closed those memory files, and the inevitable line of questioning that went with them. Rehashing the past was no use when he had a glitchy, paranoid mech to sweet talk.

Five long joors later, after Ratchet had force-rebooted Red Alert’s crashed processor twice and endured a screamed rant about the danger which lasted a full fifteen breems on its own, they had a solution that both mechs could be equally dissatisfied with.

Ratchet grumbled sullenly about glitches and paranoid fanatics all the way back to the base medbay, startling the two mechs inside when he stomped through the doors (which parted obligingly to let him through, irritating when he really felt the need just to kick something). Wheeljack took one look at Ratchet’s expression and shuffled, trying to hide his damaged hand from the irate CMO. Unfortunately Hoist, who had been trying to repair the damaged circuitry, was unwilling to let him twist away far enough and ex-vented in an irritated huff, causing Ratchet’s attention to latch onto the patient like a sharkticon sensing energon. Cornered, Wheeljack cowered slightly as Ratchet stalked over. There was no wrench immediately in sight, but that usually only meant that Ratchet wanted to assess the damage before inflicting more. Ratchet stopped by the berth, glowering down at Wheeljack, optics taking in the corroded metal, blown relays and wrecked circuits in the inventor’s servo.

“Again?” The word held the promise of a wrench to the helm unless the explanation was a very good one.

“Um…. I … slipped?” Wheeljack cringed as he said it. Ratchet’s expression didn’t alter by a single micron.

“Slipped?”

“Uh … yeah.”

“While carrying…?”

“Um … Alpha Tetrochloric Acid.”

“Funny, I’m sure I said something about reformatting you into a wall decoration if you turned up in my medbay less than five cycles after your last stupid accident.” Wheeljack shifted uncomfortably.

“Well?”

“Um … It’s been five cycles, three joors and two breems.” He noted the faint teek of amusement in Ratchet’s field and relaxed slightly.

“At least tell me you managed to clean it up before you dragged your aft here. I do not want a repeat of that incident with the purple ooze.”

Wheeljack huffed good naturedly at the jibe, he was nothing if not meticulous when it came to chemicals. Although mentioning the fact that the acid had actually got onto his plating following a small accident with his latest invention rather than just from a simple slip of the servo was probably not a good idea right now…

Probably best not to let him know about the wall either…

Ratchet buffeted him on the shoulder armour, field now teeking fond exasperation for his friend’s clumsiness, and turned away towards the secure wing of the medbay. Usually he would have applied one of his famous wrenches to the back of Wheeljack’s helm, but he had more important matters to take care of.

The secure medbay wing had originally been designed to holds mechs undergoing decontamination treatments, or suffering from severe personality glitches. More recently it had been refitted to hold prisoners requiring medical treatment. The med berths had all been fitted with restraints and the various medical probes were all loaded with sedative coding chips to prevent potentially dangerous mechs causing problems or attempting to take hostages. Ratchet checked the set up of the largest berth, noting the restraints, and setting the monitoring station to begin a full set of scans once the patient was in place. He finished by programming an instruction for one of the two probes to download it’s sedative program as soon as the patient had been hooked up. Even if it was not needed it would serve to reassure Red Alert that Ratchet was taking his fears seriously.

A soft whirring noise let Ratchet know that the cameras with which the room was supplied had been brought online and were focussed on the med berth. A short data burst from the security director himself showed that all the cameras between the medbay and the detention blocks had been activated and that he was ready to commence the second phase of the operation.

The plan, which had been patiently haggled out, was simple. Ratchet and two guards would enter Skywarp’s cell and remove him in stasis cuffs to the secured part of the medbay, where Ratchet would run some medical tests on the Seeker to determine the scale of the problem. He would then report his findings to Optimus and the other officers to allow a discussion about what should be done next.

Ratchet took a final look around the medbay, mentally checking that every item was where it should be, and walked back into the main bay to warn his fellow medics of the imminent arrival of the seeker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a secret is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to upload this until the weekend, but I got impatient. 
> 
> As always the mistakes are all mine but the characters are not.
> 
> Contains a description of a medical check-up done on a prisoner and a rather thoughtless comment made by one character.

The walk from the medbay to the huge grey detention blocks was relatively short, but by the time Ratchet got there, Skywarp was already in stasis cuffs and flanked by two bulky guards. The seeker was silent, but had obviously not come from his cell quietly, judging by the paint transfers marring his plating. Ratchet was unsurprised to see Ironhide waiting with the guards. The red mech was glaring at the black seeker, daring him to attempt to move. Not that that was really possible in the heavy duty stasis cuffs, which pinned the seeker’s servos uncomfortably beneath his wings.

“Prisoner ready to be escorted to medbay, sir,” announced the shorter of the two guards, and Ratchet gave the seeker a brief once over with his own internal scanners. Skywarp had pulled his EM field as close to his plating as possible, and his optics were over bright, sure signs of stress, although whether from anger or fear Ratchet was unable to tell. His core temperature was slightly elevated, and his spark pulses were shallow and rapid, although that could have been something to do with his long confinement. The stasis field from the cuffs was affecting his wings so they hung from their hinges, rather than flaring out in an instinctive response to danger. When he was satisfied that Skywarp was functioning acceptably, and that the guards hadn’t been too rough with him, Ratchet motioned the small group forward.

“Bring him along, then.” 

Ratchet strode at the vanguard of the small procession, with Ironhide taking up the rear. Skywarp stumbled along, half dragged between the guards, as the stasis field affected the transmission of signals down to his peds. They encountered few mechs between the detention blocks and their destination. Those that they did meet turned to stare curiously at the group, obviously fomenting their own theories as to what was about to happen to the prisoner. The slightly malicious teek in some fields caused Ratchet to grit his denta, and Skywarp’s optics to brighten further. Finally, the seeker was hustled through the main doors of the medbay. Once he understood where he was, Skywarp actually began to try to struggle and resist, but the drain placed on his systems by the stasis cuffs meant that Ironhide and the two guards were easily able to drag him into the secured area and shove him ungracefully down onto the berth Ratchet indicated.

After a quick comm burst from Ratchet, letting them know what he was about to do, Ironhide leant his considerable weight on the seeker’s upper torso while one of the guards captured the seekers peds and the second pushed down on his midsection. Ratchet quickly found the emergency medical port at the base of Skywarp’s helm and plugged the sedative laden probe in, magnetising the jack to prevent its removal. A couple of clicks later, when Skywarp’s optics had powered down and his feeble struggles had become faint twitches, Ratchet nodded to his assistants. They let go of the seeker carefully, ready to make a grab if it appeared that he was not as far under the influence of the coding as he appeared. Ratchet bustled around the berth fastening the restraints to Skywarp’s lower limbs while Ironhide hauled his torso up, allowing the stasis cuffs to be deactivated. Skywarp made a faint moan of protest when he was pushed back down to lie flat, and he tried to twitch his servo out of Ironhide’s grip. Ironhide pulled both servo’s out of Ratchet’s way as the medic fastened the restraint around the prone mech’s torso then pinned the first one in place at his waist. The other servo twitched and trembled as Skywarp fought the coding, but it was pulled back by one of the guards, who fastened it to the berth as well.

Once Ratchet was satisfied that the prisoner was secure, he turned to Ironhide and the guards.

“Thank you, you can leave now and I’ll comm you when I’m ready for you to take him back.”

“Ah’d rather stay, Ratch,” said Ironhide softly as the two guards made their way out of the room. “Ah don’t trust that seeker, sedated or not.”

Ratchet cocked his helm at his friend as he databurst the lock code to the doors. Ironhide had the grace to look a little embarrassed at his own paranoia.

“You’ll be in for a long wait. I’m running the full suite of scans, you know! And I‘m using the berth’s scanners, not mine.”

“Why?”

“Well, we don’t have any baseline medical readings for any of the seekers, so I’m not totally sure what we’re dealing with. Pit--we don’t even have basic details on most of them. Also, I‘m not sure they don‘t have any nasty little viruses hanging about. The berth is far better suited to getting the basics quickly.” Ratchet moved back to the console below the monitor. Dim red optics watched him warily, but Ratchet ignored his patient in favour of the readouts being supplied by the scans. This close, he could teek that Skywarp’s field was full of fear, the control required to keep it so close to his plating having been lost under the influence of the sedative. The initial scans showed that Skywarp’s processor hadn’t defragged properly for a long time, so Ratchet reached for the second sedative chip, intending to increase the effectiveness. Skywarp would probably be better able to cope with further captivity if he could defrag.

“Ah can see why so many mechs were wild ta git a seeker in their berth before the war,” announced Ironhide. He had moved up closer to the berth while Ratchet had his back turned, and was now staring down at Skywarp. Neither mech missed how the uneasy EM field spiked with undisguised terror, or the faintly whimpered plea that left the slack lips. Ironhide backed off in the face of Ratchet’s glare. “Ah’m jus’ sayin’!”

“Well, don’t!” snapped the medic, turning back to his terrified patient. Reigning in his irritation, he pushed his usual calm professionalism into his field and stroked along the top edge of the closest wing in a soothing gesture. “It’s OK, I’m just running a few scans.” He doubted that anyone had bothered to tell Skywarp what was going to happen, and expected that the mech had been torturing himself with fevered imaginings, especially with an un-defragged processor. Ratchet glared at Ironhide, who looked suitably abashed, again, and turned back to his coding.

A joor later, silence still reigned with Ironhide standing sentinel by the door, Ratchet calmly working away at the console, and Skywarp’s optics shifting constantly from one to the other. Ratchet was pleased to see that the fear had dimmed, but the seeker was obviously exerting enormous effort of will to stay online. The baseline scans were coming back with some useful results as well, providing data about a wide range of aspects of seeker physiology. Ratchet wished that they had thought to perform these scans earlier, but the seekers had been considered to be to dangerous to provide with more than the most basic medical care.

Ratchet reached for the second sedative chip. The spark scans would be easier to perform if he could connect the scanner directly to the spark crystal, but he doubted that Skywarp would be willing to allow him to open his chest plates. The resulting stress would cause issues with the scan anyway, leading to incorrect results. The second sedative was considerably stronger than the first one had been, and would, hopefully, push the seeker into full recharge for several joors.

Ratchet stepped up to the berth, chip concealed from Skywarp. The black mech’s field flared again with fear as Ratchet moved closer, and dull crimson optics stared up at the medic warily. Ratchet stroked the closest wing reassuringly, noting the small ripple of pleasure the gesture caused. Before the war, mechs with wings had been considered notoriously easy to overload, although Ratchet had met very few flyers and he doubted that many other grounders had either.

Sliding a servo under the dark helm, Ratchet’s questing digits found the probe and carefully loaded the new chip, ejecting the old one with the ease of long practice. Skywarp’s field flared further in panic, but the stronger coding took over and pushed the unwilling mech into recharge. Ratchet listened with satisfaction to the gentle hum of powered down systems and began plugging into the access port in the seeker’s side, starting the sequence of commands that would trigger Skywarp‘s chest plates to open.

*************************************************************************************

Two jours later, Skywarp was still in recharge and his processor was defragging well. Ironhide had moved in a little closer when Ratchet started connecting up the spark scanner, and stood looking down at the oblivious mech on the berth. Ratchet glanced up from the preliminary results he had obtained when the console beeped, signalling that the spark scan was finished.

The results scrolled across the screen, confirming most of Ratchet’s observations, until an anomalous reading caught his optic. Ratchet’s gears whirred in irritation, causing Ironhide to look up sharply.

“What?”

“Calibration of the scanner must be off.” Ratchet stomped around the berth, scanner probe in servo, and Ironhide backed away slightly. “Open up. I need to recalibrate from a known baseline”

Ironhide gave a last, brief, glance at the recharging seeker, and retracted his chest plating. Ratchet fixed the probe to his spark crystal and stomped back to the console to begin flicking switches.

“Won’t take long. It is just a calibration run.”

“Good!” Ironhide relaxed slightly as the slightly staticky buzz of the scanner hummed against his spark. The scan only took a breem before it beeped its completion at the two mechs and Ratchet removed the probe, allowing Ironhide to close his spark chamber. Ratchet turned back to the console, digits flicking over the pressure pads to bring up the required data, comparing the new readings with the old ones. Finding that they matched Ratchet shut the calibration screen down and picked up the probe again, placing it back on Skywarp’s spark crystal and setting the scan to run once again.

“This will take another couple of jours, I’m afraid.”

Ironhide merely flared his plating in a nonchalant shrug and pulled a data pad from his subspace.

***********************************************************************************

When the scanner beeped again both Ratchet and Ironhide looked up from their tasks. Ironhide put the data pad back in his subspace, and Ratchet closed the file he was compiling about Skywarp’s physiology. The seeker himself was still recharging peacefully and did not so much as twitch when Ratchet removed the probe and manually closed his plating.

Finally the medic turned back to the console and brought up the scanned data once again. It showed identical to the first data set, down to the anomaly, and Ratchet hummed in curiosity. Ironhide made an interrogatory noise and was waved over.

“This is very peculiar.”

“What?”

“Look at the Omega radiation levels, they are far, far higher than they should be for a mech of Skywarp’s age.”

Ironhide cocked his helm at the console, considering the readings. “Ah’d have said those were from Bee, or Bluestreak maybe.”

“Yeah.” Ratchet paused, thinking. “‘Hide, when do you remember first seeing Skywarp with the ‘Cons? Or Starscream, or any of the seekers?”

“Afta’ Vos. Ah’m not sure… Ah think it was only a couple ah vorns.” He paused, clicking his servos against the edge of the console. “No…Ah’m wrong…We didn’t see ’em till afta’ Praxius, but ole Buckethead musta’ had ‘em around before that.”

“The initial reports of Praxius didn’t mention any flyers.” Ratchet reminded him. “And remember, none of the bodies had any sort of brand.”

“Yeah,” responded Ironhide, “but how many of us were wearing a badge then?” He glared at Ratchet. “Why th’ sudden history lesson?”

“Because I have got a horrible suspicion.” Ratchet’s digits danced across the console again, pulling up files. “Things I just dismissed as being odd, but not worrying, when I did the physical scans.” He drummed his digits for a moment. “I‘m going to bring Hoist in.”

Ratchet checked Skywarp once more and, satisfied that his patient was still in recharge, crossed to the door and unlocked it. As it slid shut behind the medic, Ironhide stared down at the black seeker, searching his data stacks for the first memory file he had of the mech.

When Ratchet returned, towing the reluctant Hoist, Ironhide stepped away from the med berth allowing the two medics access to their patient. Hoist moved to the console and stared at the figures on display.

“My opinion?” he asked at last, turning to Ratchet, “These are the scans of a mech about Bumblebees age, maybe a bit younger.”

“I agree.” Ratchet nodded slowly, “Now look at these figures.”

“He received his adult upgrades far too early. It is the only explanation.” Hoist looked a little shocked. “I’m surprised his spark didn’t fail.” He turned to look hard at the mech on the berth. “His interface protocols don’t appear to have ever been uploaded.” Hoist paused, “You know, this might explain a few of his behavioural quirks. Who would do that to a sparkling?”

“Ah’ve got an idea,” growled Ironhide, “but he’s not around ta’ ask anymore.”

“You think Starscream did this?” queried Ratchet, “Or Megatron?”

“Screamer, no doubt ‘bout it. Th’ three o’ them were runnin’ wi’ th’ ‘Cons just after Praxius, an’ Skywarp here had a fully upgraded adult frame then.”

“Primus.” Hoist swore softly, “He must have been just a sparkling, Bee was still small enough to fall asleep on my lap around then. And Blue wasn’t much older. What sort of monster upgrades a sparkling just so he can fight a war?”

“Screamer was crazy. Ya’ gotta’ remember that, Hoist.”

“What about the others?” Hoist’s tone sharpened. “Prime won’t want to keep them all locked up if it looks like they were forced to fight in the first place!”

“I don’t know,” replied Ratchet, “We’ll have to take a look at all of them to make sure.” He was silent for a klick, processor whirring. “Start with Dirge and Ramjet, I’m more concerned about them having issues anyway, and then pull in Thrust and Thundercracker.”

Ironhide nodded, already making the necessary comm calls.

**********************************************************************

Starscream allowed his processor to hover on the edge of recharge and full alertness. The delicate balancing act required to keep himself in that comfortable state was becoming easier. His thoughts had lost much of their coherency, and being on the edge of recharge meant that he did not have to think too hard about why that was a bad thing. Not recharging was good, too, he thought muzzily. In this half aware state, he did not get woken by the horrific recharge fluxes which would leave him panicking and fighting for freedom. He relaxed further into the stillness and silence and dismissed the periodic warnings about un-defragmented processors and widespread software corruption.

Megatron would be sure to come for him soon, or his trine would come to get him out, he just had to wait. Megatron would never truly abandon him, he was far too valuable.

He just had to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got about half way through this chapter and lo! the dread spectre that is called writers block did settle it's dark wings upon mine soul.
> 
> I got stuck on this for TWO YEARS! Then I made a new years resolution to try to do an hours writing a day (even if I was writing rubbish) and it worked! Suddenly I got over the block and started writing again (yay) so if this seems a little bit disjointed that is why.

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. The Prime had called a special meeting to discuss Ratchet’s disturbing discovery.

It was a sobering bit of data to realise that five mechs they had believed to be fully upgraded and mature had been younglings who, it appeared, had been forced to fight. No one was sure who had ordered their upgrades, but most thought they knew where the blame lay.

“Starscream.”

“No question.”

“Glitch was crazy!”

“Musta’ done it to bring Megs his private army,” Jazz speculated. “Musta’ done it to more mechs as well.”

Ratchet said nothing, but looked at his Prime. The big mech looked unfocused, probably trying to field at least three private comm calls from the more vocal individuals at the table.

“Enough!” The deep voice of Optimus cut through the babble of speculation and counter questions. “We have five very young mechs in our detention centre who were clearly forced into this war far too young. They need help to reintegrate into society and to deal with all the remedial programme and hardware fixes that are required.” He paused, frowning at Red Alert’s staticky splutter, and continued, “I am also aware that these are five highly dangerous warriors who have been filled with anti-Autobot propaganda from sparklinghood. They pose far too great a risk to just turn them loose, but equally it is clear we cannot in all conscience keep them locked up.” Optimus turned to Prowl, who smoothly picked up where the Prime had left off.

“We have judged that all five should be separated and released into the care of various Autobots who can be trusted to look after them. They will wear comm linked stasis generators permanently around their servos and thrusters, and their caretakers will have the power to turn them on and off at will. Obviously because of this, we need to make sure that the caretakers are mechs who can be trusted implicitly.”

The data pads set into each place at the conference table beeped as Prowl transmitted a file. Ratchet picked his up and opened it to find a list of names of mechs who had been sounded out about taking one of the Seekers into their residence. Ironhide, Hoist, Prowl and Kup had all agreed, as had Inferno. The list ended with a tentative suggestion regarding which seeker would be placed where. Ratchet nodded approvingly at the dispositions. Thrust would do well with Kup and Ramjet would receive plenty of medical attention with Hoist. Dirge would be suited to staying with Inferno and Thundercracker and Prowl would be complementary. 

The only pairing that worried him was Ironhide and Skywarp. The black and purple flyer had been clearly nervous around the weapons specialist in the medbay. On the other servo, mechs of both factions had experienced Skywarp's love of cruel practical jokes, and Ironhide would certainly be the mech to check such things.

“What do we tell ‘em?” asked Jazz, looking up from his own data pad. “D’ya want them to know the truth ‘bout why we’re doin’ this or somthin’ else?”

“The truth.” Optimus Prime’s deep voice cut through the murmuring. “No good can come from further lies or evasions. These mechs are of an age now to be considered fully mature, just like Bumblebee and Bluestreak.”

“What about finding out who did this to them?” Ratchet asked, tapping his data pad thoughtfully. Then, forestalling the chorus of opinion from the other mechs present, “I know we THINK we know, and I agree that it is a workable theory, but what if there were others?”

“I’ve already started the process.” said Prowl calmly, “We will be questioning Soundwave again shortly to find out what he knew.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I will also be talking to Thundercracker once he has settled in. He is the oldest of the five, and might have had some information.”

“Iffn ya can get ‘im to talk,” muttered Jazz.  
“If I can get him to talk, indeed,” responded Prowl smoothly. “I do not anticipate that it will be a quick process.”

“If that is all, we should return to our duties,” said Optimus, rising from his seat. “Red, ‘Hide, I’ll leave the two of you to work out the best way to get all five mechs fitted with stasis generators and ready to go to their new caretakers. Jazz, I’ll leave the securing of the caretakers’ quarters in your capable servos.”

***********************************************************  
Skywarp clamped his plating tight to his frame and pulled in his field as far as possible. The stasis cuffs around his servos had not been activated, but he was surrounded by four guards, under-fuelled, and with his thrusters and warp gate generator disabled. Attempting to escape was simply not an option. There was also the fact the he had no idea where he was being taken. Lurid images flitted around his processor, memories of crude comments made by some of the guards, and the warning tales told by the older seekers in the aerial armada. 

“Don’t let the Autobots capture you,” they had said. “We’ve seen what they like to do to pretty little fliers.”

Skywarp felt his panic beginning to rise again when his jailers led him into a large, open room. Ironhide and Kup were standing together, talking quietly and both looked over when the door opened. Ratchet was there too, optics on a data pad. There were more guards around the walls, and Skywarp could see Thrust and Ramjet huddling together in the centre of the room, optics darting everywhere, waiting for the first sign of aggression.

One of the guards led Skywarp over to join them before joining his fellows ranged at the perimeter. Skywarp moved closer to the other two seekers and carefully clicked and trilled a query in sparkling Vosian.

“What is going on?” 

Thrust flicked his wings in a small shrug while Ramjet answered, “Don’t know,” in the same language.

The three fliers looked over as Dirge was led into the room. His optics darted around, taking in the guards and his fellow seekers, looking for escape routes. Ramjet clicked softly at him, asking for reassurance as he stepped closer to his trine. Thrust chirred soothingly, wanting to touch his trine mates and calm their fears, but studiously keeping his hands to himself.

All four felt it when Thundercracker was led in. The soft subsonic snarl of anger from his engine. The Autobots had locked down the mods linked to their natural abilities, but they couldn’t stop them entirely. Sensors calibrated for flight picked up the faint vibrations and the wings of all four mechs flicked nervously.

Ratchet also felt the buzzing sensation, medical sensors in his hands throwing out phantom alerts at the vibration. He made a quick note to get Wheeljack or Perceptor to look at making improvements to the dampers attached to both Thundercracker and Dirge’s engines. They would need to be stronger if the mechs were going to be living in close quarters with their caretakers. Prowl would find the sensations supremely irritating after a relatively short period. Ratchet suspected that the activation of their natural abilities was linked to heightened emotions.

Thundercracker approached the little knot of his fellow Decepticons and trilled a soft question. “Everyone alright?” Little wing flicks indicating acceptable functioning answered him, and he forcibly throttled back his engine, calming a little.

The fliers had barely seen each other since their captivity had started. Only brief glimpses early on in the medbay. The urge to hold on to their trine mates was strong, but fear of the Autobots and how they would exploit their bonds kept them still. Skywarp kept his optics on the door he had entered through, awaiting his Trineleader. Both he and Thundercracker could feel Starscream as a faint presence through the trine bond, enough to know that he was still online, but not enough to actually reassure them.

Instead of Starscream, five more Autobots entered the room, led by the Prime. Skywarp wanted to take a step back, but controlled the impulse. He was an elite Decepticon warrior, not a sparkling. He could feel Thundercracker through the bond and at his back, solid and reassuring. Beside him, Thrust hissed softly as the Prime began speaking.

Dirge and Thundercracker’s engines both began rumbling as the Prime told them that the Autobots knew their big secret, and Skywarp’s processor went into overdrive, crunching the figures for emergency teleportation. Five sets of wings flicked, betraying fear that the Decepticons were far too experienced to show any other way. Then the Prime revealed what their fate would be.

Skywarp felt the horror which suffused his trine mate through their bond, and the prickles escaping from the fields of the three other seekers. This was exactly what they had been warned of, slavery and grounding in the name of Autobot “mercy”. Thundercracker was broadcasting a strange, sick, disgust as well, a feeling that Skywarp hadn’t felt from his trine mate for a long time. Not since the last time he had been “invited” to Megatron’s quarters. Thundercracker steadfastly refused to tell his trine mates what happened on the rare occasions that he had been summoned to the Decepticon leader’s berth, but Skywarp had formed the impression that it had been unpleasant, humiliating and painful.

Just as he thought that it could not get worse, the Prime dropped his final bombshell about who their new “caretakers” would be. Skywarp’s optics brightened fearfully and the warp gate calculations cycled faster, but were again brought up short by his lack of energon and the buffer attached to his warp gate generator, which scrambled the numbers to random gibberish.

“I know that this will be difficult for you all, but I am confident that with the help of your caretakers you will be able to re-integrate into our society.” The Prime seemed to be winding up now, final meaningless platitudes spilling from his vocaliser. The purple and black seeker was under no illusions about the Autobots letting them “reintegrate.” 

He wanted his Trineleader, Starscream would have a plan, Starscream always had a plan, but the trine bond was still and quiet.

Thundercracker shifted beside Skywarp, vocaliser cracking with static caused by stress and lack of use. “I will not accept your kind offer,” the last two words were snapped with a snarl of distaste, “until I have spoken with my Trineleader.” There was a low susurration of sound from the surrounding Autobots, but Thundercracker kept his eyes firmly on the Prime, who flinched slightly, nervous and surprised.

“You mean Starscream?” Thundercracker bit back an angry growl, who else did the idiots possibly think he meant? 

“Thundercracker, no-one has seen Starscream since the end of the war. We…we assume he is dead…” Optimus’ words died on his lips as the assembled Autobots took in the expressions of horror on the faces of all five jets.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were shaking their helms in emphatic denial while the other three stared, optics blown wide and bright.

“Our trine channel is active, his status shows him as alive!” Thundercracker ground out through clenched denta. “We know he is still alive!” Unspoken was the assumption that the Autobots were keeping him somewhere, but Optimus Prime was shaking his head, while the other Autobots eyed each other uneasily.

“Thundercracker, I swear...we have not seen Starscream since before Megatron deactivated... we…” his voice trailed off again as Skywarp made a thin, frightened keening. “Where was he? Where did you last see him?” The question cracked out, aimed at Thundercracker and Skywarp, but it was Thrust who answered, tone horrified.

“Nemesis, the isolation cell…he…Megatron…” he gasped, unable to continue, “Primus!”

Suddenly everyone was speaking at once. A babble of sound, with orders being flung around. The flyers huddled together in a defensive circle, sensitive wings held swept back. Dirge and Thundercracker’s engines growled and all five shifted nervously as the guards closed in. Kup and Ironhide joined them as the five seekers were herded towards the wall.  
Ironhide quickly commed Hoist and Inferno, who came to join the group around the nervous seekers. Thundercracker had manoeuvred Skywarp behind him, blocking him with his body and wings, shielding him from Ironhide. Thrust and Ramjet were both in front of Dirge and Thrust was snarling in fury. It was clear that none of the seekers were willing to be split up again. Red Alert began twitching when he saw the scene playing out.

Despite their struggles, the five fliers were quickly separated. Thundercracker attempted to swipe at the guards trying to separate him from his trine mate and was slammed against the wall. Ironhide pulled Skywarp out of the press of mechs, a large servo wrapped around the slender wrist. Skywarp jerked and pulled away, field broadcasting panic, but Ironhide pulled his servos back under his wings and activated the cuffs. Skywarp continued to fight, weakly attempting to dig his thrusters into the ground as Ironhide dragged him towards the door and away from his trine mate. One of the guards moved over to assist and together they got the seeker back into the corridor.

“We’ll take ‘em back ta the cells fer now” Ironhide ordered. “Ratch’ll be comin’ by later ta get ‘em sorted wi’ the cuffs”.

Skywarp redoubled his efforts to get away, twisting in their grip as much as he was able, but the stasis cuffs on his wrists did their job and he was pulled back to the cell block.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much where Skywarp started writing the plot for me. I'm trying to wrestle control of the story back.
> 
> Re-posted now it has been Beta'd . Thank you CheerfullyMorbid.
> 
> Thanks to all those who have commented and left kudos. It is exciting to know people are out there and reading this!

The Prime was worried. His officers could see it, despite his efforts to keep his field calm. Prowl was running calculations and Jazz was studying a data pad and making quick, precise, notations.

“We have to go and check the Nemesis!” 

“I estimate that the chances of Starscream remaining alive are less than 30%,” Prowl pointed out. “He will have been without energon now for almost two earth years.”

Optimus winced at the reminder, a tendril of guilt threading his thoughts. If he had only insisted that they had ascertained the status of Starscream when the war had ended. If only they had thought to search the Nemesis, if only… He shook himself out of the negative loop with an effort and looked around the table. Only Ratchet appeared perturbed by Prowl's bland statement. Ironhide was scowling and Red Alert was twitching nervously while Jazz looked professionally blank.

“If he went into stasis those odds increase by 10%,” Ratchet pointed out, knowing that it made little difference. “And Skywarp and Thundercracker seem convinced he is alive.”

“How do they know that?” exclaimed Red Alert. “They said their ‘Trine Channel’ was active, how did we not shut it down? They have been communicating with each other all this time! They are STILL in communication. They are going to kill us all!” His vocaliser spat static at the volume of his last sentence.

Optimus almost winced again. Red Alert had been sent into a panic on learning that the seekers had some sort of secret method of communication which appeared to be impervious to the Autobots’ best blocking methods. Red had begged to be allowed to question Thundercracker, but Optimus had vetoed the request. The blue seeker had enough to process without being ranted at by the twitchy security director.

“Jazz, I want you to assemble a team to take to the Nemesis as soon as possible. Not only to try to find Starscream,” Optimus raised a servo to forestall any complaints about the potential waste of resources, “We need to make sure that there is nothing left down there that the humans could use in their weapon building.”

Ironhide hummed in agreement and Ratchet looked relieved. The Prime took it as a good sign that no-one seemed to be about to argue further.

*****************************************************************

Skywarp lay on the berth in medical stasis, the soft hum of internal systems the only noise he made. Ironhide was relieved. The young seeker had put up quite a fight when taken from the detention block to the medical facility and had accompanied it with enough noise that it had left the audios of the guards ringing.

Ratchet had been thoroughly unimpressed and had forced Skywarp under when he had refused to let go of the doorframe to the medbay. The dark coloured seeker had been bundled onto a medical berth and Ratchet had tutted at the fresh dents and scuffs all over his frame. The stasis generators had been installed without issue, but it had been decided to keep Skywarp under while he was transferred to Ironhide’s quarters. Ironhide had not wanted to drag a shrieking mech through the base, particularly one who was being that uncooperative.

Glancing back at his new charge, Ironhide left the room, closing the door behind him. The five new caretakers, the medical division and the senior command staff had had a number of meetings about what to realistically expect from the seekers. No-one really knew. Ratchet thought there were likely to be issues around touch and had warned that Thrust and Skywarp showed problems with their thermoregulation. Ironhide had obtained a heating blanket for Skywarp's berth. He had also been handed a packet of mineral supplements to add to energon. Ratchet had found metal deficiencies in all five seekers, although that was not surprising. Most of the Autobots and Decepticons who had been stationed on Earth were taking supplements of one sort or another.

Ratchet had estimated that Skywarp would re-boot within a jour of the stasis chip being removed, something Ironhide had done once he had got the seeker back to his quarters. The medic had also suggested that Ironhide leave Skywarp to come around on his own. He only hoped that his spare berthroom would survive the damage should the jet panic.

Ironhide checked that the main door to his quarters was locked (just in case his guest managed to sneak out of the berthroom) and settled down to wait, picking up a data pad, but keeping his passive proximity sensors focussed on the closed door.

***************************************************

Skywarp re-booted slowly, processor sluggish from an inadequate defrag sequence and the staticky fuzziness caused by medical stasis. When his short term memory storage came back online he stiffened, remembering what had happened, and why. Suppressing the urge to online his optics, he dialled up his audio receptors instead, straining for any sounds which might let him know where he was. There was silence, apart from the faint humming of the base power plant in the background, and the whirring of his own fans. The room he was in was several degrees warmer than his cell, and his wings were telling him that the berth he was lying on was considerably softer than either the slab he had been recharging on or the ones in the medbay.

Finding no evidence of another mech in the room, Skywarp carefully powered up his optics to peer around. The lights were at half power, but they revealed a room bigger than his cell, with a window, some empty shelves and a desk. Optics compensating for the low light levels, Skywarp nervously peered around. The berth he was lying on was a single one, and there was no indication that the room was normally occupied by any other mech. He relaxed marginally. He had half expected to come online in Ironhide's berth with the mech himself peering down at him. Waking up alone was a relief.

Belatedly, he realised that he was not tethered to the berth he was lying on and cautiously sat up, careful to make as little noise as possible. He swung his peds gently to the floor and stood, shaking off the lingering disorientation from the stasis. The room appeared to have a large window in one wall, currently partially obscured by a shutter, and a door opposite. Skywarp could not help but notice that the locking panel, which would allow him to keep unwanted visitors out, appeared to have been removed from the door. It left a discoloured patch where the wire holes had been welded shut.

Glancing around, the seeker began analysing the room and its fixtures for creating some defences. The idea that Ironhide, or anyone, could just walk into the room unopposed frankly terrified him. He had spent the time since the Prime had told them what their fate was going to be imagining worrying scenarios around what Ironhide would do to him. The tamest involved the Autobot giving him the beating of his life.

A sudden knock on the door startled him, but he kept his vocaliser muted and moved back to the berth, pushing it so it was between himself and the door, then crouched behind it. The seeker trained his optics on the door and waited as the knock was repeated. He stiffened as the door opened, but no-one entered the room. Skywarp could see the bulk of Ironhide past the threshold, but the Autobot didn’t appear to be about to come in to the room.

“There’s energon out here for ya,” the big mech rumbled before leaving the doorway. Skywarp didn’t move, but he was aware of the low fuel warnings which had been pinging for his attention. He weighed up his options, such as they were. Stay in the room and create a defensive position, but drop into stasis due to lack of fuel; or get out of the room and get the fuel, but be subjected to whatever unpleasant scheme Ironhide had in store for him. Instinct and training told him to stay put, to defend himself until his trine leader came up with a plan to get them all out. But Starscream wasn’t here, Thundercracker wasn’t here, and it seemed that his hopes of rescue were slim.

He worried his lower lip with his denta. To be rescued he had to stay alive, and somehow he didn’t think Ironhide would want to kill him. Of course, if he dropped into stasis in this room Ironhide could still come in and get him, defences or no. Skywarp's thrusters made a thin whining noise as flight protocols attempted to engage. He didn’t know when Ironhide would offer him fuel again. For all he knew the sadistic Autobot would withhold it for the pleasure of making him beg, or to make him do other things. Maybe it would be best to get the fuel while it was offered, he could check potential escape routes and hopefully the next room would have more space for him to manoeuvre. Ironhide would not be able to do anything to him if he couldn’t catch him after all.

Skywarp edged out from behind the berth as quietly as possible and nervously made for the door. It did not close in his face, as he had half thought it would, and he engaged his passive sensors, trying to get a feel for the room beyond. From just inside the doorway he could see a wall, a shelving unit and the edge of another door. He could feel a few dense masses out of sight beyond the doorframe, one of which had just shifted slightly, suggesting that this was his captor. He seemed to be busy in another part of the room and not waiting outside ready to grab the seeker.

The seeker edged around the doorframe, optics darting nervously. Ironhide was sitting in a chair facing away from him, apparently engrossed in a data pad. The room had a couple of other chairs grouped around a low table on which two energon cubes were sitting. Facing the table was a console which looked like it doubled as an entertainment centre, and a number of shelves of data pads. There was an energon dispenser in one corner, with several packets stood next to it. Ominously, Skywarp thought he could make out the glyph for his own name on one.

Ironhide glanced up as the seeker entered, but otherwise didn’t move. So far this was playing out better than the red mech had expected. There had been no major property damage, yet. He was on high alert, but looked back down at the data pad, trying to appear more interested in it than in Skywarp. He could see black and purple wings fluttering in the periphery of his vision as the seeker edged closer to the table.

Skywarp hovered uncertainly, optics on the other mech, staying deliberately out of range. Having got this far, he was unsure what to do next and was regretting his decision. Ironhide reset his vocaliser, causing him to jump back nervously.

“Ya can sit down ya know.” Ironhide glanced up again, projecting a calm, unconcerned field and making no move to stand up. “Ah don’t bite.” Skywarp edged closer to the chair furthest from him, finally perching on the very edge and watching him with bright optics. 

Had he been alone, Ironhide would have huffed a brief laugh. Instead, he leaned forward towards the table and gently pushed one of the cubes closer to Skywarp. The younger mech flinched back, wings clattering against the back of the chair, but relaxed marginally when Ironhide made no other move towards him.

Skywarp stared at the cube on the table, a hundred different scenarios playing out. Was the cube poisoned? Was it full of something that would make him purge his tanks? Was it laced with something that would slow him down? Was it high grade? He jumped as Ironhide leaned forward to take his own cube from the table. He was half out of the chair when Ironhide stood carefully and ambled over to the packets standing by the energon dispenser. He watched, curious, as the big mech snagged two packets and sat back down. One packet was pushed across the table towards him while Ironhide opened the other and measured out a careful scoop of whatever was in there.

“Ratchet has us all on supplements, says we’ve got deficiencies of all sorts a’ things.” Ironhide gestured with his scoop towards the unopened packet on the table “Tha’s yours by th’ way. Dunno what’s in there exactly, but I ‘spect Ratch has it written on th’ packet“.

Skywarp glanced down briefly, not wanting to take his optics off his keeper for too long. The packet did indeed have the glyph for his name on it, plus a lot of other glyphs which he was too nervous to try to puzzle out now.

“Ya’ want ta take a scoop in every cube.” Ironhide warned, adding his own scoop to the cube held in his servo, “Ratch gets cranky if ya’ don’t.”

Skywarp looked again at the unopened packet. He had no idea what was actually in there. Ironhide was watching him now and the seeker regretted leaving the perceived safety of the other room. He glanced back at the unopened cube. Refusing to add the supplements would almost certainly gain him a punishment, but was it better or worse that what the supplements would do to him?

“Th’ cubes fer drinkin’.” Ironhide reminded him, and Skywarps thrusters whined softly again in response to his nervousness. Ruthlessly suppressing any shaking of his servos, the young seeker opened the packet and took out the scoop that had been placed in there. Aware of Ironhide's optics on him, he measured a small scoop of the supplement and opened the cube. The minerals swirled into the energon, turning it a slightly darker purple and Skywarp stared at it for a long moment, nerving himself to drink it. He screwed up his courage and tipped the cube to his lips. The energon ran over his chemoreceptors and he could detect the minerals added, a sharp tang of tungsten and the grittiness of barium predominant. Nothing about the taste suggested it was anything more than ordinary mid-grade.

Ironhide relaxed slightly when Skywarp started to drink. Ratchet had been worried that some of the seekers would refuse to take energon from their captors. He had anticipated that he would have to drag his unwilling guest back to the medbay if his fuel levels got too low. 

The young mech was clearly trying to appear unconcerned, but had kept his field tight to his plating. Ironhide could not pick up anything from him at his current range.

“When ya finish th’ cube we need ta talk,” Ironhide warned the seeker. “Ah’ve got some ground rules fer ya living here, an’ ah’m sure ya have questions.” Skywarp stiffened nervously, lowering the cube, wings twitching. 

He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to sprint for the door, he knew it would be locked. Ironhide was hardly stupid after all. He bought the cube back to his lips again, trying to mask his fear. He was an elite seeker after all, not a sparkling, no matter what the Autobots thought.

Ironhide could tell that Skywarp was drinking slowly, clearly trying to put off the promised conversation. Behaviour which marked the black mech as being very young, Bumblebee would do the same thing, so he waited patiently, sipping his own cube.

Finally the seeker finished the cube, dispersing it with a squeeze of his hand. He kept his optics off Ironhide, glancing around the room, hoping to delay the inevitable. He didn’t want to hear the “rules”, or know what Ironhide expected him to do to earn his energon. He hid a flinch when Ironhide reset his vocaliser, resolutely staring at the tabletop.

“So, ground rules,” the red mech began. “First up, th’ room yer in is your space. Ah won’t come in ‘less ah need ta, or ya ask me, an’ ah’ll knock if ah want ta talk or need ya ta come out.” He pretended not to notice the incredulous look he was receiving. “That said, ya noticed th’ door panel?” He paused until Skywarp gave a slight nod. “Well ah’m afraid th’ door will be locked while ah’m recharging’.” He paused again, but Skywarp still didn’t say anything, continuing to stare at him with wide optics. “Ah promise ah’ll keep ya locked in as little as possible.”

Ironhide paused, waiting for any indication that the seeker had understood, or wanted to make a comment, but Skywarp said nothing, dropping his optics back to the tabletop. He was clearly anticipating something worse to come, but Ironhide could not tell what.

“Second, th’ wash racks are through that door.” Ironhide gestured to the door in the wall opposite the energon dispenser. “At th’ moment, solvent is rationed so ya only get a short amount of time.” He looked around for more things to explain. “Mah room is opposite yours.” Skywarp looked up, a calculating expression on his face. “An’ ah keep mah door locked when ah’m not here!” Skywarp glanced at him then looked back down. “The console there is linked ta Teletraan an’ ya can get all sortsa entertainment from it. We’ve got lotsa Earth movies an’ shows, plus some from Cybertron. Ya can read any of the data pads out here.” 

Skywarp's wings perked up slightly when the console was mentioned. The data pads were of less interest, but the console was a definite draw. He wasn’t sure about spending time watching anything while Ironhide was in the quarters with him, but if Ironhide was out for a reasonable period then he would certainly take a look.

“Third,” Ironhide broke into his musings, “Ratch insists ya have regular check ups. He wants ta see ya ev’ry ten cycles, an’ he’s got a coupla things he wants ya ta do.” He paused again, but Skywarp remained silent. “He wants ya ta refuel three times a cycle, with th’ supplements. He’s got me on th’ same orders so we’ll refuel together. Th’ energon dispenser is code locked ta me by th’ way, so ah‘ll have at git ya energon fer th‘ time bein‘.”

Skywarp still made no comment, but his wings were held high and twitching. Ironhide recognised the posture; Bluestreak was prone to the same thing when anticipating punishment. He interpreted the posture as fearful, and worried what the seeker’s response to some of Ratchet's other instructions would be.

“Ratchet thinks ya could have some issues getting used ta normal social touch after bein’ in isolation.” There was no mistaking the flinch this time, combined with the over bright optics and wings hiked up even higher. There was definitely something about this which bothered the seeker. He decided to push a little for a verbal response. “How do ya feel about that?” Skywarp stared down at the tabletop, clearly not wanting to answer. “Skywarp?” Ironhide's tone became stern.

“Don’t want to touch,” the young mech muttered softly after a few more clicks of silence. “Not trine.”

“Ratch isn’t talkin’ about gettin’ too touchy-feely.” Ironhide tried to reassure him, “Jus’ so ya don’ get too isolated. Ya gotta touch other mechs. Ratch says we’re programmed ta respond ta social touch an’ if we go too long without we start ta get glitchy.”

Skywarp just stared at his servos, wings still twitching. He couldn’t remember being touched by a grounder in a way which hadn’t involved either violence or servos getting inappropriately grabby. He didn’t want to be touched by Ironhide, or any Autobot, and trembled to think what Ironhide would make him do.

Ironhide could see Skywarp's discomfort and sought to change the subject, but made a note to discuss the unwillingness to touch with Ratchet and the other caretakers. He was clearly going to have to return to the subject carefully with Skywarp himself.

“Th’ Prime wants ya ta get ta know th’ other Autobots. So when ya get more settled ah’m goin’ ta get ya ta come out with me an’ help wi’ th’ reconstruction work.” He noted how the seeker perked up slightly, and hastened to warn him, “There will be lots a’ work fer ya ta do, an’ Red’ll have a lot a’ restrictions on ya.” Skywarp visibly deflated, so Ironhide added, “Ah hope th’ other seekers’ll settle so ya’ll be able ta see them as well.”

“Thundercracker?”

“Yeah. If ya both settle down. Ah’ll hafta talk ta Prowl, but we’ll work somthin’ out.”

“Starscream?” 

Ironhide felt his spark sink at the hope in Skywarp's voice, which had barely risen above a whisper.

“Prime has ordered a mission back ta Earth,” Ironhide promised. “If he’s there, they’ll find ‘im.” He paused, sensing an opportunity to obtain some more information. “Ya seem very sure he’s still alive…” Skywarp started another course of tabletop studying without saying anything. “How can ya tell?” Black wings trembled and the seeker kept his optics resolutely away from his caretaker.

Ironhide decided to drop the subject and return to the easier topic of Skywarp living in his quarters.

“Okay, ya got any questions?” 

That got a brief headshake. 

“Ya want ta watch something? Or grab a data pad?” 

Another headshake. 

“Okay, well, ah’m goin’ ta read fer a bit, then ah’m goin’ ta recharge.” More silence greeted his pronouncement, but Ironhide wasn’t so worried. Things had gone a lot better that he had really expected, especially after the earlier shrieking. Property damage had been avoided (so far). His new charge was clearly tense and there were still questions to which he needed an answer, but all in all it had been a good start.

He stood, reaching for the two packets still on the table, and pretended not to notice Skywarp's violent flinch as he put them back by the dispenser. He felt over bright red optics trained on him as he sat back down and picked his data pad back up. He was hoping that if he left the young seeker alone Skywarp would relax a little, and even look around a bit. He had considered offering the seeker the chance to use the washracks, but decided that could be left until after they had both recharged.

Skywarp stayed seated, barely daring to move and dreading the time Ironhide would announce his intention to recharge. He feared that the older mech would insist on some form of repayment for the energon and the berth, repayment Skywarp absolutely did not want to give him, but which he might be forced into. His processor kept looping back to the conversation about social touch and he trembled and braced himself for the worst.

Finally, Ironhide turned off the data pad and stood to place it back on the shelf. He turned back to the seeker, who was staring up at him with wide, terrified optics, clearly anticipating something horrible. This was clearly a delicate situation. Ironhide wasn’t entirely sure what was troubling Skywarp, but was aware that he needed to tread very carefully.

“Ya want ta grab a data pad ta read in ya room?” He enquired calmly, careful to keep his field neutral. Skywarp still appeared to be frozen in place, so Ironhide deliberately took a couple of steps back towards the energon dispenser. The young mech stood slowly, keeping out of reach, with his optics still fixed on Ironhide.

“Ya sure ya don’t want a data pad?” Skywarp just backed off further, posture radiating fear. “Okay, Ah’m goin’ ta recharge, so ah need ya ta go back ta yer room.” Skywarp didn’t move so Ironhide took a small step towards him. “Now!” the seeker backed up a few paces, “Skywarp, do ya want me ta drag ya there?”

Skywarp whimpered softly, engine whining with his distress as Ironhide crossed to him and gripped his shoulder. Ironhide's field was confused and worried where it touched his own. The red mech apparently did not understand the fear being broadcast by his field. The pressure on his shoulder increased and Skywarp took a stumbling step in the direction of his new room.

“Come on, kiddo. Ah promise ah’ll let ya out as soon as ah git up.”

Ironhide gently, but firmly propelled the seeker towards his room, only letting go when Skywarp was over the threshold. He shut the door and locked it, pausing to listen intently in case the seeker started to panic and needed calming down, but there was silence. He turned back to his own room and palmed the opening panel. He was worried by Skywarp's fear. He had a suspicion about what the seeker had been frightened of, and the knowledge left him uneasy. He set a ping to contact both Ratchet and Prowl after he had recharged, and climbed into his berth.

**********************************************************

Starscream had fallen into recharge, energy levels hovering a little above the point where his systems would have forced him into stasis. The little tube feeding him energon was producing less and less as the Nemesis shut down more and more of its systems. The situation was becoming serious. Starscream had been moving less and less. Joints had become crusted with the impurities from the energon and were stiffening up.

A strange vibration, felt through his wings at first, jolted him awake. He on-lined his optics. The weak glow reflecting back from the blank surface in front of him made him wince and off-line them again. Too long in the dark had caused the optical receptors to become over-sensitive.

The vibration continued, a constant thrumming. His wings ached with the unaccustomed sensation. His damaged vocaliser spat static as the pain made him whimper and he winced again at the noise. 

The vibrations became stronger, accompanied by a buzzing sound which made his audios ache. His world was exploding in pain. He screamed, or tried to, static crackling harshly, adding to the pain as misaligned components grated against each other. Everything was suddenly noise and sensation and he on-lined his optics, only to be met with a stabbing, blinding brilliance, agony lancing every part of his frame, until his overloaded processor and low energy levels forced him off-line.

***********************************************************

Optimus stared down at Starscream's motionless frame in horror. He could not believe that they had found the seeker alive. Ratchet had cursed violently when the seeker had been brought to the medbay, his white armour so dirty he almost looked like he had been deactivated. Optimus berated himself again, if only he had insisted that they asked what had happened to Starscream, if only he had insisted that the Decepticon base had been searched before they left Earth, if only…

Even knowing what Starscream was capable of, even knowing what he had done, the Prime regretted that he had failed to save the white seeker so much suffering.

Optimus looked up as Ratchet entered the secure ward clutching two data pads, and frowning in concentration. The frown deepened to a scowl when the medic saw his leader and Optimus crossed to him and put a gentle servo on his arm.

“What is the verdict, Ratchet?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” the medic huffed, putting the data pads down on the console.

“Bad news first,” Optimus decided, bracing for unpleasant information.

“He’s in very bad shape. His lines and tank are coated with residue from the rubbish he was drinking, and it is going to have to be cleaned out before it causes corrosion. The finest lines to his extremities are already showing serious degradation.” Ratchet looked down at the unconscious seeker. “His optical sensors are blown out, probably from when he was rescued, and will take a long time to replace. Even if he was in top condition it would take several operations over about thirty cycles because the various components need to integrate. For Starcream…I don’t know.” The medic huffed in irritation. “His vocaliser is a mess. That will take more time to fix. He has widespread software glitches, I guess he hasn’t been recharging, not terribly surprising really. His audios are in poor shape, again probably caused when he was rescued, but not as bad as his optics, they should probably start to improve when his self repair starts to work properly. His self repair is in dreadful shape, by the way, and the software corruption has affected his firewalls. He has less than half the number of nanites that a functioning mech should have, again probably because of the sludge in his tanks affecting their production. His thrusters, chronometer, gyros and for all I know his entire sensornet are all damaged. Oh and then there is the cosmetic damage you can see, plus a bit of rust infection around those holes in his wings.”

“Primus! What is the good news?”

“It probably depends on your point of view, but right now the good news is that he is still alive.” Catching Optimus’ expression, Ratchets scowl deepened. “Don’t pretend that there aren’t a whole lot of mechs on this planet who think that we should have just left him to deactivate.”

“I know.” Optimus sighed, “And I know that some will still argue that we shouldn’t waste resources fixing him.”

“Another problem is that, until he is in much better condition, I can’t perform a spark scan. I want to keep him in here, and in stasis, for the next few cycles. I‘m going to keep this bit of the medbay locked down. No-one without a medical override code will be able to get in.”

Optimus looked back down at the motionless form of the seeker on the medical berth and back up at his old friend. “What are his chances, Ratchet?”

“I don’t know.” Ratchet huffed again, venting his irritation in a short explosive clearing of his vents. “Starscream is tough, I know that much. The very fact that he survived is something of a miracle.”

“I hate to ask, but… how old do you think he is?” Optimus scrubbed his servo across his face. “There are a lot of mechs who want to talk to him about the…well…we need to know how old he is and what he did.”

“I don’t know…A part of me thinks he must be older than the others, it’s the logical explanation. I’m not sure a younger mech, or one who was upgraded too early, would have survived what he has gone through.”

“I think you are right, but I need to know before we decide what to do with him.”

“I‘ll do what I can. Has Prowl managed to get any information from Thundercracker?”

Optimus shook his helm sadly. “No, Prowl says he hasn’t said a word…about anything.”

Ratchet grunted, not even slightly surprised, and turned back to the tray of tools beside the medical berth, beginning to set out the ones he would need. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.” It was a clear dismissal and Optimus nodded his head, pressing his field against Ratchet's in gratitude before leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a trip through washracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I realised that the fic was wandering waaaay off plan. I wasn't planning on writing this scene, it just sort of happened and the words just kept coming. It doesn't really advance the plot at all.
> 
> I feel a bit guilty at heaping more abuse on poor 'Warp... but only a bit because he's taking over my story. 
> 
> I strongly advise you don't look to closely at the plot. Remember what Nietzsche said: "If you gaze too long into a Plot-Hole, the Plot-Hole gazes also into you".

Ironhide was still worried. Skywarp was docile, but skittish, hiding in his room until he was called out for energon and never letting Ironhide touch him. Since the first cycle he had barely said two words. He had been offered the use of the washracks, but hadn’t been near them. Nor had the seeker touched the console or taken a data pad, although he had been offered them several times. True to his word, Ironhide had not entered the younger mech’s room, but from the doorway had glimpsed how the furniture had been moved around and the berth stripped of its padding. He suspected that the seeker had made a berth on the floor in the far corner of the room, another worry.

The five caretakers had been in regular communication with each other, with Ratchet, and with the officers. Ironhide knew he had got off lightly with Skywarp. Skittish, and grimy, the seeker may have been, but he wasn’t noisy (Thrust), destructive (Ramjet), or refusing to eat (Thundercracker). Fortunately no-one had expected the process to be easy.  
Ratchet had commed Ironhide to tell him to bring Skywarp to the medbay for a check up in three jours. The seeker had not been out of his quarters since he had arrived and Ironhide was not entirely sure what would happen. When Ramjet had been taken to the medbay he had attempted to run, forcing Hoist to activate the stasis generators and carry him there. Ratchet had not been impressed and insisted on the generators being kept on throughout the examination because Ramjet had started fighting the minute they were turned off.

Ironhide drew two cubes from the dispenser and grabbed the supplement packets, placing them on the table before crossing to Skywarp's door and knocking. There was no sound from inside, but that was not unusual. Skywarp could be very quiet when he wanted and would be out in his own time.

The red mech crossed to his usual chair and sat down, pulling out a data pad. He had quickly discovered that Skywarp responded better when he was not the focus of Ironhide's attention. As expected, his sensors picked up the approach of the other mech, he glanced up briefly, noting how dull and scuffed the seeker’s plating looked.

“Energon,” he announced, as the seeker perched nervously on the chair furthest from him. “An’ Ratch has told me ta bring ya ta th’ medbay fer a check up.”

Skywarp flinched back from the cube he had reached for and stared at Ironhide with wide, bright optics. His wings hiked up and were twitching in nervousness.

“Ya need ta use the washracks before we go. Ratch’ll get cross if ya turn up looking like that.” Skywarp's engine gave a little whine of distress and Ironhide looked sternly at him. “Trust me, ya need ta use the wash racks. Drink up!”

Skywarp stared down at his cube. Ironhide hadn’t pushed him to use the ’racks until now, and he was unsure what would happen next. He looked down at his scuffed and dirty servos, he felt filthy. Fliers were usually meticulous about their cleanliness, but he hadn’t been through a washracks since he had been taken out of the prison. Not that the prison washracks had been a pleasant experience, shoved into a tiny room and sprayed with freezing solvent. Skywarp didn’t want to go through that again here.

“Drink up,” Ironhide told him again, already halfway through his own cube. “An’ don’t forget ya supplements.”

Skywarp reached for the packet. Despite his previous misgivings, he definitely felt better for having regular, good quality, energon and the supplements that his frame required. He slowly added a scoop to the cube and raised it to his mouth, rolling it carefully over his chemoreceptors as always. All he could taste was regular energon and the supplements.

Skywarp sipped the cube as slowly as he dared, half an optic on Ironhide, checking how impatient the older mech appeared. Ironhide was calmly reading his data pad again, glancing over at him occasionally to see whether he had finished. There was no irritation in the mech’s field, no hurry or agitation that they were about to be late.

Ironhide stood and picked up the two packets from the table, putting them back by the dispenser. Skywarp stood as well, beginning to edge back towards his room until Ironhide turned, and pinned him with a stern look.

“Come on, ya need a trip through the ‘racks, n’ so do I. We‘ve only got a limited supply of hot solvent as well so we‘ll hafta share.” Skywarp froze, watching him uncertainly as the big mech palmed open the door to the wash racks. “Skywarp!”

Ironhide could tell that Skywarp was working up to running. He felt guilty about pressuring the young mech who seemed so uncomfortable, but there didn’t seem to be any other option. Skywarp was clearly not going to use the wash racks of his own accord.

The seeker tried to shuffle back towards his room as unobtrusively as possible, but Ironhide strode towards him. Moving more quickly than he had in months, Skywarp dodged to one side, evading the big mech’s grasp. Unfortunately for him, Ironhide had angled himself to move the seeker away from the perceived safety of his room. The only way around him was back towards the open door to the wash racks. Skywarp tried it anyway, but wasn’t careful enough and Ironhide grabbed his shoulder and wing in a hard grip and pulled him in close.

“Don’t be difficult ’bout this. Ya think if ya turn up in th’ medbay lookin’ like this Ratch isn’t goin’ ta insist ya have a trip through th’ ‘racks?” He loosened his grip slightly as Skywarp trembled under his servos, and began to pull him towards the washracks. Skywarp struggled, keening in fear, but Ironhide had him at a disadvantage and pushed him through the door, taking his hand off the seeker’s wing to hit the closing, and locking, mechanism behind them.

Skywarp pulled away, backing up until his wings hit the far wall and trying not to break down and panic. He was sure that his luck had run out and Ironhide was going to either beat him, or frag him. Instead, the mech turned to pick up two brushes, one of which he held out to Skywarp, who just stared at him again in incomprehension.

“Here, take it.” He waved the brush at Skywarp, who reached hesitantly for it. Turning, Ironhide began fiddling with the solvent controls. A gentle spray began drifting down on both mechs, getting stronger, and warmer as Ironhide made adjustments. Pressed to the wall, Skywarp was out of the main force of the spray until Ironhide took his servo and tugged him forward. He didn’t resist, concentrating on controlling the fear in his field and not just curling up into a little ball under the spray.

Ironhide could feel that fear where their fields touched. He wanted to reassure the younger mech, but it had become clear that Skywarp was anticipating something unpleasant whenever Ironhide got close to him. Only time and familiarity would alleviate the fear and Ironhide hoped that the seeker would eventually start to trust him.

“Turn around, ah’ll scrub ya back then ya can do mine.” Skywarp turned reluctantly, wings held totally still. Ironhide tried to reassure him. “If it hurts or tickles or anythin’ ya should let me know. Ah’ll stop if ya need me to.”

Skywarp braced himself, but still jumped at the first sensation of the brush against his plating. Ironhide's touch was firm, but not rough, rubbing careful circles and causing the sensors in his wings to light up. It was a pleasant feeling, particularly after having gone for so long without it. He tried not to whimper in pleasure, denta gripping his lower lip.

Ironhide could feel the ripples of pleasure through the seekers field despite Skywarp's attempts to suppress it. The fear was still there, but the Autobot hoped that this simple grooming session would start to convince the young mech that he was not a threat. Skywarp had started to apply the brush in his servos to his own front and arms as Ironhide moved his own brush lower. Skywarp jumped forward as he felt it touch the small of his back, and stiffened as it passed down over his aft and thighs. The touch continued, firm and careful, but wasn’t followed, as Skywarp had anticipated, by groping servos or a heavy body pressing him against the wall. He remained frozen under the spray as the brush travelled lower, down to his thrusters and around his peds. Finally Ironhide finished and gently gripped Skywarp’s upper arm, pulling him to turn around. The naked fear in the seekers optics made him frown.

“Ya need ta finish ya front,” Ironhide instructed him, beginning to apply his brush to his own windshield. “Then if ya can do mah back ah’d appreciate it.” He was pleased to see Skywarp comply, beginning to scrub himself again. Ironhide turned, bending to get the brush into his own peds. As he straightened he felt Skywarp's brush against his shoulder plating. The touch was not as firm as another grounder would have used, but the brush moved carefully across his upper back. In response the older mech ruffled his back plating, allowing the solvent spray to be directed towards his protoform. The brush moved lower, scrubbing across his lower back, but skimped across his aft and thighs. Ironhide made no comment, merely moving his own brush further around his frame.

They finished just as the allotment of solvent began to run out. Ironhide shut down the spray, and flicked the driers on in its place. Solvent evaporated from their plating, and Skywarp flicked his wings, scattering excess drops. The young seeker looked cleaner, but his plating was still badly scuffed. Ironhide contemplated encouraging him to settle down to be polished, but the frightened red optics suggested that it would be a difficult task. Instead Ironhide unlocked, and opened, the washrack door before turning to pick up the discarded brushes and put them back in their proper place. Skywarp bolted as soon as the door opened, and Ironhide was unsurprised that he was nowhere to be seen when he followed into the main room. He checked his chronometer, which told him that they still had more than a jour until they needed to be in the medbay.

Ironhide unlocked the door to his own berthroom, reaching for the small polishing kit on one of the shelves. He also lifted down the pair of light stasis cuffs from another shelf and tucked them into his subspace. Turning, he took the kit back out to the main room, pausing outside Skywarps door.

“D’ya want ta polish up a bit before we hafta go?” As expected, there was silence from the other side of the door, so Ironhide continued on towards his usual chair, setting the polishing kit down on the table, and starting to buff some of the more noticeable scuffs from his armour.

Half a jour later he repacked the polish and cloths into their box. There had, predictably, been no sign of Skywarp. He returned to his room with the box, replacing it on its shelf before exiting and locking the door behind him.

“Skywarp, we need ta be leavin’ soon,” he called as he passed the seeker’s door on his way back to the table. He picked up his data pad. The red mech half expected that he would have to physically remove the seeker from the room, not a task he was looking forward to, but to his surprise Skywarp was standing nervously by the doorframe. Rather than spook the young mech by going up to him, Ironhide stayed where he was, tucking the data pad into his subspace. “D’ya want ta take a data pad?” he offered, more for form's sake than because he expected Skywarp to accept.

“No.” Skywarp’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the fact that he had said anything at all made Ironhide more hopeful that the trip to the medbay would be a little easier than he had expected.

“Ok, there are a coupla’ things before we go.” As he expected Skywarps wings began to twitch, a sure sign that the mech was nervous. “Red Alert isn’t happy about ya leaving the quarters without bein’ cuffed.” The black wings hiked up and the seekers engines whined. “But ah don’t think that we need ta bother with that. So can ya promise me now that ya’ll behave an’ not try anythin’ silly?”

“Yes.” Skywarp kept his optics on the floor, his demeanour that of a mech about to be dragged off to be tortured. His whole posture was tense and, as usual, his field was pulled in tight. Ironhide added these observations to a data packet which he pinged to Ratchet. The medic would probably have some orders for Skywarp. It was clear that giving him some space had not been as successful as Ironhide had hoped.

“Ya realise that if ya start tryin’ ta run, or get aggressive wi’ anybot ahm going ta have ta activate th’ stasis generators?”

“Yes.” Skywarp’s voice was even softer, and he huddled in on himself.

“Ok, ahm goin’ ta hafta keep a hold of ya while we are outside. We don’t want Red havin’ a crash. Ya think ya can handle that?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, come on then.” Ironhide crossed to the door of the quarters, and typed in the locking code, keeping his body between the keypad and Skywarp. He turned back to the seeker, still standing frozen in the middle of the room. “Come on.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a trip to the medbay - and a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUUUUUGE thank you to the lovely people who have commented and left Kudos. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, so lovely people saying nice things about my work makes a big difference!
> 
> Still no trine interaction in this one. They will be together when they are good and ready (I hope), every time I've tried getting them together so far they refuse to co-operate.

The journey to the medbay was uneventful. Under his hand, Skywarp’s plating was twitching, and his field was broadcasting his fear clearly. The fear made Ironhide uncomfortable. It had been hoped that all the seekers would begin to settle, but Skywarp remained terrified, seemingly waiting for an attack. Ironhide suspected that the young mech was not recharging properly. Ratchet would probably have quite a lot to say about that, and about the touch aversion.

Skywarp pulled back slightly when they reached the door to the medbay, and Ironhide slowed, turning to face the seeker.

“Ya OK?” He stroked the arm under his servo, and Skywarp just looked down, wings twitching again. “Ya know Ratchet won’t hurt ya. He might get a bit cross if he thinks ya’re being difficult, but he won’t hurt ya.” Skywarp just kept staring at his peds so Ironhide tugged gently to get him moving, and started back towards the medbay door.

He half expected the seeker to grab the doorframe, or dig his thrusters in, but Skywarp followed him quite docilely.  
Once inside the medbay Skywarp stopped again, optics darting everywhere. Ironhide halted with him, not wanting to push him further than necessary. He patted the seeker’s arm again, projecting calm unconcern through his field as Ratchet appeared through the door of the secure medbay wing. Ironhide had pinged his file of observations to the head medic when he and Skywarp had set off. As Ratchet paused to pick a data pad from a nearby desk, Ironhide felt Skywarp shift nervously and gripped him a little more firmly. The seeker kept trying to shuffle behind Ironhide as Ratchet made a beeline for them.

Ratchet noticed the way Skywarp was trying to dance around Ironhide, seemingly trying to put the red mech’s bulk between him and the medic. He was hopeful that it meant Skywarp was starting to trust his caretaker. Ironhide was having none of the silliness, planting himself firmly and pulling the seeker gently back to his side again as Ratchet came up to them.

Ratchet turned to Ironhide first, sensing an opportunity. “Since you’re here, you may as well get your regular maintenance check now. It saves me chasing you up in a few cycles. First Aid will take you through it.” He commed the junior medic as he spoke and First Aid trotted out of the medbay’s small office, smiling happily to see Ironhide. The older mech glanced between Skywarp and Ratchet before nodding and patting Skywarp’s shoulder.

“Ya gonna be Ok?” Skywarp’s engine gave a little rev of fear, but he kept silent as Ironhide took his hand from the black arm and turned to greet First Aid. The young Protectobot led him to a med berth on the other side of the medbay, activating the privacy field to hide them from view.

Ratchet turned to the seeker, who looked as though he was about to bolt, red optics bright with fear. “Come on,” he gestured towards the nearest med berth and Skywarp moved slowly forward. Once he was closer, Ratchet put down the data pad and activated the privacy field before looking the seeker up and down. “Sit down,” he said, patting the berth. “I’m going to need to access the med-port in your forearm. Are you going to be alright with that?”

Skywarp swung himself onto the berth, plating clamped tight to his frame. He didn’t answer Ratchet's question, but kept his optics on the medic. He didn’t want to allow Ratchet access to his med-ports. Too many years of medics whose medical programs would smash through his firewalls and drag information from his systems painfully left him wary. Ratchet reached for his arm and he flinched back violently, cringing and waiting for a blow. Ratchet withdrew his servo calmly and swung himself to sit on the berth beside Skywarp instead. Skywarp tensed even further.

“We’ll try this another way. You want to tell me what is bothering you?” There was silence from the mech next to him, exactly what Ratchet had expected from Ironhide's information. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to run some scans.” He reached slowly for Skywarp’s servo, telegraphing his moves and keeping his irritation out of his field with the ease of long practice. His servo brushed the back of Skywarps wrist and gently began to pull the seeker’s limb towards him. His grip was loose but Skywarp was not resisting. Ratchet began to stroke the servo he held, noting the tense, stressed field and slicked down plating. “Are you going to tell me what is wrong?”

“Don’t want it to hurt,” Skywarp muttered after a long pause, optics firmly trained on the servo now in Ratchets grasp.

“I promise it won’t hurt.” Ratchet patted Skywarp's servo gently as he turned it over, exposing the inside of his wrist where the med-port was situated. “It’s just a scan.” He ran the tips of his fingers across the port cover, encouraging it to open.

“It always hurts. Don’t like it.” Skywarp began to pull away, but Ratchet's hold became firmer and the cover to the med-port popped open under the gentle touches.

“It won’t hurt.” Ratchet made no further moves to plug his diagnostic cables in, concentrating on soothing Skywarp, whose engine had started revving hard in distress. “I’m going to do a medical sync up with your systems first so your firewalls will recognise me and let me through.” The revving did not abate, so Ratchet decided to try another tactic. “Do you want a rust stick?” He reached into his subspace with his free servo and pulled out a pack of rust sticks which he proffered to Skywarp.

The red optics flickered between the treats and Ratchet's smile and the revving engine dropped in pitch as Skywarp tried to understand the situation.

“You can have one if you let me connect up.” He felt Skywarp stiffen again and kept stroking the servo he was holding. “I’ll connect up and if it hurts I’ll stop and give you another rust stick, how does that sound?”

“Promise you’ll stop if it hurts?” Skywarp's optics were trained on Ratchet's face, watching for any hint that he was not telling the truth.

“I promise.” Ratchet slid a rust stick from the packet and offered it to Skywarp. He took it in his free servo, looking it over warily. While the younger mech was distracted, Ratchet unspooled the diagnostic cable from his own wrist port and gently plugged in. The jack magnetised automatically and Skywarp jumped at the tingle, nearly dropping the treat.

Despite his fears, there was no pain, no attempts to take down his firewalls and no digging around his systems. There was a faint buzz as the sync was made, and a growing awareness of Ratchet's systems and statistics. It was distressingly like syncing with Starscream and Thundercracker, only less immediate and less intense. The buzz became a stronger tingle, but it didn’t hurt. Then the tingling stopped and Ratchet reached down and gently disconnected himself. Skywarp stared at him in confusion as he offered a second rust stick.

“All done. I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” The medic patted Skywarp's servo again, “So, do you want the good news, or the bad news?” Skywarp didn’t answer, still looking confused, so Ratchet continued. “Well the supplements are doing their job, and I’m glad to see you taking them. You are showing increased levels of all the materials you have deficiencies in. You are still a long way from not needing to take supplements, but the increase is good.” Skywarp looked down at the rust sticks still held in his servo, not wanting to hear what else Ratchet had to say.

“The bad news is that your self repair is working overtime to counteract the microfractures which are appearing across your frame because you are not relaxing.” Ratchet allowed a little bit of his concern to enter his field. “Now at the moment it’s not too bad, and I think we can correct it without too much trouble. Some of the worst damage is around your wing hinges and cables, which is quite common when you are holding them tense all the time.” Ratchet swung himself off the berth and picked up the data pad from the small table beside the bag. Plugging into the pad he began downloading his findings. He knew that Skywarp would have issues with what he was going to say next.

“You are going to have to relax.” Skywarp had started studying his clasped servos, plating clamped down and field tight. “Skywarp.” Ratchet touched the seekers wing gently, “This is exactly what I am talking about. You need to relax your plating and relax your field. You could do yourself some serious damage if you do not learn to relax.” Skywarp looked up at him, expression fearful and wings tensed up again. Ratchet started running his servo across the top edge of the closest wing. “I know you are frightened. I don’t blame you. I’m sure you were told that the Autobots would do terrible things to you if you got captured.” Skywarp looked down again. “I can promise you no-one will hurt you. I know you won’t believe me, but no-one will hurt you.” He huffed a short laugh, “You’ve been living with ‘Hide for…what, ten cycles now? Has he done anything to hurt you?”

“No.” Skywarp’s answer was almost inaudible.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Ok, so now we need to talk about what we can do to improve matters. If you remain this tense, then the microfractures are going to get worse and your self repair is going to struggle to keep up.” Ratchet vented. “There are a few things you can do. The most important one is to defrag properly. I didn’t miss the fact that your systems show that your last proper defrag cycle was when I checked you over last time. I know your battle protocols are still running in the background, and I know you are taking quick and dirty battlefield recharge instead of shutting down properly. You need to let yourself shut down all the way and get at least four solid jours of defrag time every cycle.” He patted the closest wing again. “When you come for your next check up I expect to see your defrag records showing that you are actually recharging. If not then we will have to think about turning your battle protocols off.” Skywarp pulled back nervously, and Ratchet hastened to reassure him. “Only if you can’t fix this yourself. I don’t like doing it, it’s dangerous.” More gentle touches to the black wing. “I want you to try to learn to relax without having to take more drastic action. I’m going to prescribe some additional supplements which will help you recharge while your frame deals with them.”

Skywarp muttered something that Ratchet didn’t catch. Probably about not wanting to lose his battle protocols or take more medicine. The medic kept stroking the wing, feeling Skywarp relaxing fractionally under his hand.

“Another thing I want you to do is socialise more. I’m going to suggest that ‘Hide starts having mechs over to his quarters to get to know you.” There was another rev from Skywarp's engines, which Ratchet ignored. “I also want you to start spending more time outside your room. ‘Hide told me you spend most of your time in there. It’s not good for any mech to spend too much time alone, especially without any form of social touch. I’ll suggest that the two of you sync up, but that will be up to you. At the very least you should try some mutual grooming. Let him polish out those scuffs.” Skywarp's expression told Ratchet what he thought of that idea.

“I do want to take a look at your wing hinges while you are here. I can’t really tell how bad they are from a simple scan. Can you lie on your front on the berth, please?”

Skywarp didn’t move, staring at the rust sticks in his servo as if mesmerised. Ratchet tugged gently at his wing, encouraging him to twist around. The seeker resisted a little, but Ratchet reassured and petted until he was lying on his front, twisting uncomfortably to try to keep Ratchet in his field of vision.

“Eat your rust sticks,” said Ratchet, stroking the back of the younger mech’s helm. “I’m not going to take long.”

Skywarp felt the touch of careful servos against his delicate wing hinges. Hinges which, now he concentrated on it, were a bit sore. He could feel the plating being gently moved aside and Ratchet's soft hum of concentration. Finally Ratchet stepped back and Skyawrp turned back over to see the medic downloading something into the data pad again.

“Is it OK?” The silence unnerved Skywarp. Like all seekers, problems with his wings frightened him.

Ratchet glanced up from the data pad and gave him a reassuring smile. “The damage isn’t bad, don’t worry, but I do want you to have some therapy to help them heal.” He put the data pad down, “I also recommend you actually sleep on your berth, not on the floor.” Skywarp looked at him in confusion. “The mesh under the berth padding is better at supporting your weight and not putting pressure on your joints. I’ll get you some more pillows. Blue, Prowl and Smokey all use them.”

“What therapy?” asked Skywarp nervously, mind running through a large number of unpleasant possibilities. The idea of damage which could prevent him from flying worried him, even though there didn’t look like any possibility that the Autobots would ever let him fly again.

“It’s not painful,” Ratchet hastened to reassure him. “We just use magnets to encourage the nanites of your self repair system to focus on the biggest fractures. Otherwise they don’t prioritise and try to fix them all at once.” The medic paused, unsure how Skywarp would take the next piece of information. “Unfortunately, we’ve only got two mechs who have the appropriate modifications to help. The magnets need to be pulsed gently.” Ratchet paused, watching the young mechs face for signs of further discomfort with the situation. “Jazz and Blue have both had experience in helping me treat this kind of injury, I trust them both to help you.” Skywarp’s engine was revving hard again and his wings, which had relaxed to a more natural position, hiked up so Ratchet reached for the top edge of the closest one, pushing it gently down again. “Relax!” He waited until the wing lowered slightly and began running his hand gently across it. “I’m going to talk to Bluestreak. He’s closer to your age, and you are likely to see a lot of him, ’Hide pretty much adopted him when he was a youngling.”

Skywarp was clearly unconvinced, and the topic was obviously making him nervous so Ratchet opted to drop the subject.

“I’m all done with you now. You ok to sit here and wait for ‘Hide?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp was still quiet, so Ratchet gave his wing a last pat and deactivated the privacy field. Skywarp looked back down at the rust sticks still in his servo and tentatively nibbled one. Ratchet huffed in amusement and took the data pad back to the office. He wanted to see what the younger mech would do if left alone for a short period. The seeker might take it into his processor to run, of course, but Ratchet thought he was more likely to do something else.

Left unsupervised, Skywarp finished the rust sticks, enjoying the unaccustomed treat. He had not had anything like that since he had still been in his first frame. He was still not happy with the situation, and Ratchet's warnings had made him uncomfortable. Skywarp desperately missed his trine mates. He could feel, through the trine bond, that Starscream was close by. Very close. The feeling had been distracting him since he had entered the medbay. Without really thinking, Skywarp slid from the berth and began searching for the sense of closeness with his trine leader. He moved closer to the secure wing, and reached for the screened window.

A servo grabbing his wing and yanking him around made him hiss and his claws clicked into battle configuration. He was confronted with the snarling face of one of the Autobots twin frontliners, the red one who liked to get grabby when he had a flyer on the ground. Sideswipe growled, lunging for Skywarps servos and flipping him to the floor. Skywarp found himself face down with a heavy frame above him and a busy servo starting to pull and twist at his wings.

Skywarp shrieked in pain, feeling thin plating buckle and tension cables begin to stretch and snap, and bucked, trying to dislodge the Autobot. His battle protocols, which he had not even realised had gone dormant during Ratchet's examination, flared back into life. He swiped blindly, feeling battle grade claws scrape down plating, raising curls of metal, and heard the growl change to a hiss of pain.

Too late, Skywarp remembered that where one twin was, the other would not be far behind, just before a heavy ped connected with the side of his cockpit, making him groan. His thrusters screamed, flight protocols trying to initiate, to take off and get him out of danger.

The weight on his back was suddenly removed, but not without a final yank to his wings which left the hinges aching. He leapt to his peds, growling, only to be hit with a full body stasis as Ironhide activated the generators, and he found himself on the floor again. From his prone position, he could see Sideswipe being restrained, none too gently, by Ironhide, and Sunstreaker glowering at Ratchet, who was looking furious with his plating flared.

The medbay door opened and the Prime strode in, looking extremely grave. The little part of Skywarp's processor being diverted to tactical processing threads noted that the Prime must have been close by to have reached the medbay so quickly. More processing threads were calculating the likelihood of avoiding more serious injury when Ironhide, or, worse, the Prime, decided to turn their anger on him. The odds were coming back very badly.

“What happened?” Optimus demanded, irritation and disappointment clear in his tone. Sideswipe visibly winced, and hung from Ironhide's grip instead of fighting. Sunstreaker just curled his lip, standing straight and stiff. “Sideswipe?”

“I saw the ‘Con trying to get into the secure medbay,” snapped the red frontliner. “I took steps to stop him since no-one seemed to be keeping an eye on him.” Ironhide began growling, looking furious, and Skywarp's processor helpfully dropped his chance of avoiding further injury to just above zero.

“So ya decided just to pile in, no questions asked?” Ironhide snapped.

“He was trying to break into the secure medbay. He’s a ‘Con, ‘Hide, remember, he was probably planning to bust Screamer outta there!”

“The two of you will go to my office and wait there.” The Prime's voice was calm, but commanding, and Sideswipe’s mouth snapped shut. He shrugged himself out of Ironhide's hold, and stalked to the door, followed by his brother.

Ironhide and Ratchet's plating settled back down when the twins left, and Ratchet turned to the seeker on the floor. Skywarp tensed again, awaiting a blow or for digits to dig under damaged plating, but Ratchet just knelt down beside him, servos running across the fresh damage.

Skywarp growled and Ratchet tsked in irritation.

“Keep that up and the stasis generators will stay on until I’m finished fixing that damage.” Ratchet stood and turned to Ironhide. “Could you get him settled onto the berth, on his front please.” He turned to Optimus, who was hovering uncertainly, “He’ll be fine, but I’d appreciate it if you would gently remind both of those idiots that fighting in my medbay is forbidden. No matter the provocation.”

“Don’t worry Ratchet, I’ll make sure they understand. I’ll also pull the camera recordings from Red so we can see what really happened.”

“Thank you.” Ratchet dismissed the Prime with a wave of his servo and began hunting for the tools he would need. Optimus met Ironhide's optics, and the two shared a brief smile before Optimus turned and headed for his office. Ironhide bent to lift the seeker still lying on the floor. Skywarp hissed and growled, and struggled as much as the stasis field would allow him, but Ironhide carried him over to the berth and carefully set him down.

From their earlier sync, Ratchet could feel Skywarp's battle protocols cascading alarms and re-prioritising the seeker’s systems to fight or run. The stasis field was preventing Skywarp from doing either, but vorns of experience with battlefield medicine warned Ratchet that the protocols would have to be shut down or reset before he would be able to do any work on the black mech.

Skywarp had made a few determined efforts to roll off the med berth, so Ironhide was gently restraining him when Ratchet reached them. The young seeker was still making furious noises and his servos, claws still extended, were scrabbling at the berth padding. The stasis generators robbed him of the strength he needed to do any damage, and Ratchet gripped one wrist carefully, pulling it away from the berth. The claws flexed, but Ratchet ignored them, feeling for the medical port and popping it open with the ease of long practice.

“I’m going to push his protocols through a hard reset,” Ratchet warned, plugging his own cables into the port in Skywarps wrist. There was more snarling from the berth, which both Ironhide and Ratchet ignored as the medic tunnelled through the backdoor into Skywarp's systems left by their earlier sync. Finally he reached the correct code strings and pushed them back to their base configuration. Skywarp stilled almost immediately, and the growls an hisses devolved into soft clicks and whimpers of pain.

Ironhide winced in sympathy. A hard protocol reset was common when medics needed to provide emergency treatment on the battlefield. From experience the big mech knew that it would leave a processor ache and a feeling of coding being out of alignment until the seeker got a chance to defrag properly. He stroked Skywarp's helm, noting how the system induced anger had given way to fear again.

Ratchet was busy with the ailerons of the black wings, making an angry growl of his own when his found the snapped tension cables. They would require some delicate pin wealds to fix, simple enough, but fiddly with a stressed patient. The damage to the hinges was not as bad as it could have been, but the microfractures had spread slightly, and the cables had been wrenched out of alignment.

Skywarp was making almost sub vocal clicks and chirps as Ratchet worked and Ironhide rubbed small circles across the dark shoulders, pushing calm and reassurance into his field. Ratchet reached for a pain patch which he plugged into the port at the base of Skywarp's helm. As the coding downloaded and began to take effect, both mechs could feel Skywarp's disorientation and redoubled their efforts to reassure him.

By the time Ratchet finished, Skywarp's clicks became less frantic, and his optics dimmed from their panicked brightness. The pain patch had clearly taken effect, artificially calming him, slowing his processor speed and making him dizzy as his gyros were thrown off balance by the coding.

“He needs to relax and recharge properly tonight,” warned Ratchet stroking the closest wing. “On his berth, not the floor.” He was interrupted by a negative murmur from the mech on the berth and moved his servo to tap Skywarp's cheek. “It’s not negotiable, kid. I’m checking on you tomorrow, and I’m going to take action if I find you have not recharged.” The plating under his servo quivered and Skywarp chirped in irritation. Ratchet's optics met Ironhide's and the medic pinged his friend with a question.

::Does he chirp often?::

::Not that I’ve noticed, why?::

::I’ve got a suspicion about his language skills, does he ever read?::

::No. I’ve offered him pads, but he never takes them.::

Aloud Ratchet said; “You can take him back to your quarters, but you might want to go slow, he’s probably not going to be too steady. Come over tomorrow to check those wealds.”

“If Ah turn th’ stasis generator off are ya goin’ ta behave?” asked Ironhide, gripping Skywarp's shoulder to get his attention. Skywarp grunted a vaguely affirmative noise, so Ironhide switched the stasis field off. The young seeker immediately began to try to sit up, but his movements were uncoordinated and powerless. Ironhide helped him up, but when Skywarp attempted to stand his legs buckled under him. He was saved from hitting the floor for the third time by Ironhide's arm around his waist.

“I think you are going to have to carry him, ‘Hide,” said Ratchet, moving around to support the seekers other side. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to walk.” Skywarp made an inarticulate growl, but Ironhide scooped him up securely.

“Don’t wriggle, ah don’t want ta drop ya.” Skywarp made another indefinable noise, halfway between a growl and a squeak, but kept still as Ironhide began to carry him towards the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is stubbornness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter features force feeding of a prisoner. Please consider your personal taste and headspace before reading this.
> 
> Thundercracker is being really difficult. He is sulking and doesn't want anything to do with the Autobots.
> 
> Thank you everyone for all the kudos and lovely reviews. I'm really hoping not to disappoint anyone who is enjoying this.

Ratchet watched Ironhide carry Skywarp out of the medbay. He expected the black and purple mech to be disorientated until the coding from the pain patch worked its way out of his system. Now that he had finished working Ratchet allowed himself to become angry with the twins. There was no doubt in the medics processor that the young seeker had been aware that his trine mate was in the medbay, and that he had been searching for him when Sideswipe had jumped to conclusions.

Ratchet picked up his data pad again and began downloading the results of the repairs he had conducted, along with some observations about Skywarps mental state. He had an uneasy suspicion that the seeker was missing more programming that had been apparent from the first scan he had taken. The chirps and clicks suggested that Skywarp had not received his language upgrades when he was put into his adult frame. Ratchet expected that the seeker would probably have issues with reading and writing as he would have had to learn from scratch. He wondered if the other seekers had the same issue. He also wondered who had taught Skywarp to speak standard Cybertronian, a question he intended to put to the mech himself when he went to check his wealds.

Ratchets musings were interrupted by a comm from Prowl. The Autobot second in command sounded irritated.

::Ratchet, do you have some time to come and check over Thundercracker?::

::What is the issue?:: Ratchet was confident he knew what was happening, but he hoped he was wrong.

::He’s still not refuelling. I’m getting worried, he hasn’t left his berth for several cycles and I think he is on the verge of stasis.::

Ratchet huffed, this was exactly what he had expected. ::Fine, I’ll be over in a few clicks.::

::Thank you::

Ratchet growled in irritation. Thundercracker was stubborn about taking fuel, clearly not trusting Prowl, and not wanting to use the supplements he had been prescribed. Now that the seeker was nearing stasis Ratchet was trying to come up with an alternative plan. He knew he would need to get fuel into Thundercracker’s primary fuel tank, keeping him fuelled using an energon line would result in the same issue once the line was removed because his tank would still be empty. Ratchet hoped that Thundercracker could be reasoned with, he was not looking forward to having to force fuel the young mech.

Ratchet hadn’t had to force fuel anyone for a very long time. It was a long and stressful process and the last mech he had been forced to treat had been Mirage, long before they had landed on Earth. The spy had ceased fuelling after a mission which had gone bad, and Jazz had had to drag his subordinate to the medbay.

The medic fished through one of the supply cupboards for the equipment he would need, digging out coils of plastic tubing and other items. While he worked he turned over a few plans to try to persuade Thundercracker to fuel on his own. 

Sighing Ratchet put the things he required in his subspace and went back to the secure ward to check on Starscream.

****************************************************************************

Prowl waited for Ratchet with internal disquiet. He remained impassive, but his door wings twitched. Jazz watched him out of the corner of his optics. He knew that Prowl was worried about the young seeker in his care, but could sense that the tactician was becoming worried by the lack of progress in getting through to the mech.

Thundercracker had refused to fuel, speak to either Prowl or Jazz or even leave his room when either were in Prowls quarters. And now he was apparently close to stasis. Jazz could understand Prowl’s frustration, he could get no traction with the seeker to obtain any information. Jazz himself had tried questioning Soundwave about the seekers, but the Decepticon had refused to discuss it and Jazz had had to give up.

When Prowl had checked the seeker at the start of the cycle the blue mech had been lying still on his berth. Not unusual in and of itself as the seeker was usually found on the berth or sometimes staring out of the rooms single large window when Prowl came to let him out of the room. He had on-lined his optics when Prowl had opened the door, but their glow had been fitful, and Thundercracker had off-lined them again quickly. The Praxian mech had attempted to persuade the seeker to take a cube of energon, and when he had failed had contacted Ratchet.

When the medic buzzed the door for entry Prowl crossed quickly to open it and admit the other mech. Although he did not let anything into his tightly controlled field he was relieved that Ratchet had arrived. From long experience Prowl knew that Ratchet would usually get his way where a mechs health was in question. Prowl was confident that Thundercracker would be made to at least take some energon.

“Where is he?” Ratchet sounded irritated, not entirely surprising as the mech had very little patience for his patients deliberately making themselves unwell.

“His room.” replied Prowl, calmly “It is through here.” he gestured to one of the closed doors and Ratchet crossed to it. “Will you need our assistance?”

“I’ll comm you if I do, but I need to see what I am dealing with first.”

“Understood.” Prowl turned to his desk which had been slotted into an alcove and sat down, pulling some data pads towards him. “I will be out here if you require anything.”

Ratchet left them to it and opened the door to the seekers room. Thundercracker was lying on his front among a pile of pillows. From the way some had scattered across the floor Ratchet guessed that the blue mech had attempted to leave the berth, but found the lack of fuel had made it impossible.

Crossing to the berth Ratchet reached a gentle servo out to stroke one of the blue wings. To Ratchet’s faint surprise the red optic powered on very faintly, their glow like the dying embers of a fire. Thundercracker’s field was not fearful, instead he was broadcasting an uneasy mixture of disgust, resignation and an unpleasant sort of sick hopelessness. Ratchet nearly flinched away. The feeling was eerily similar to that he had felt in torture victims, but Thundercracker had clearly not been tortured. It felt more like the seeker was preparing himself for something horrible.

“Hey kid.” Ratchet patted the wing “You’re not looking so good there. I’m going to sync up and take a look OK?” Thundercracker’s wing fluttered weekly under Ratchet’s servo and he seemed to be trying to wriggle away. Fortunately his weakened state meant that Ratchet could easily take his servo and begin working the port cover open.

As he had done with Skywarp Ratchet began a sync as soon as he had attached his cables. Absently he noted the differences in the two seekers stats, but it was the state of Thundercracker’s fuel tank that concerned him. The young mech was running very low, another 3% and he would be slipping into stasis. Ratchet was surprised that he could power his optics on at all.

Internally he cursed stubborn young mechs being deliberately self destructive. He understood the fear Thundercracker must be feeling, but indulging in such foolish behaviour (which he surely knew would not have a positive result) was not something he was willing to tolerate. He hoped he would be able to encourage Thundercracker to accept some energon, but as it stood the seeker would need an energon line run directly into his system to keep him out of stasis in order to actually drink the cube. From the scans he had obtained previously Ratchet knew that all the seekers had a small intake valve on the major energon line in their elbow joint. This would make it relatively simple to run the line, but the issue would be when the energon caused Thundercracker to become a little more active.

Ratchet pulled the equipment he would need from his subspace, fitting the line together, and attaching the syringe full of super concentrated energon. Thundercracker was still watching him, optics flickering and tried to jerk his arm away when Ratchet reached for it again. Ratchet just huffed softly, taking a firmer grasp on the seekers forearm and straightening the elbow joint. Transforming one of his digits he carefully removed the covers protecting the intake valve and set about fixing the drip. He carefully fixed the syringe to the wall using adhesive strips so the energon flowed downwards.

When Thundercracker’s optics began to brighten Ratchet tapped the seekers wing to get his attention. Thundercracker ignored him in favour of trying to pull the line out and Ratchet gripped both servos in his own. Thundercracker growled at him.

“None of that.” snapped Ratchet, “I’ve already had your trine mate growling at me today, and he had every cause to do so. I’m not in the mood for that behaviour from you. You brought this on yourself.” he relaxed his grip. “Now, I want to talk to you, and more importantly I want YOU to talk to ME. Clear?”

Thundercracker made an indefinable noise, and Ratchet responded with a swift pinch to the sensitive wingtip. The seeker glared at him, field flaring with anger.

“When I say talk to me, I mean TALK, not just grunt.” Ratchet soothed over the wingtip. “I know you aren’t happy, but I won’t tolerate you deliberately injuring yourself. Come on - sit up.”

Thundercracker looked like he was about to refuse to move, but Ratchet had his servos under the blue seekers shoulders, and was deftly keeping to energon line out of his way, giving him little choice but to perch on the end of the berth. He glowered at the medic.

“You look like a petulant sparkling…appropriate…but I want to have a serious conversation with you.” Thundercracker huffed and looked away, staring fixedly at the opposite wall. “Very mature.” commented Ratchet wryly.

“I don’t talk to Autobots, not after Vos” snapped Thundercracker, vocaliser staticky with disuse.

“And yet you are talking to me now.” Ratchet pointed out mildly “So I’m sure you a capable of having this conversation.” Thundercracker subjected the wall to another angry glare. Ratchet decided to push on. “You need to get some energon into your primary fuel tank. This…” he waved at the improvised drip “Is not a way to refuel. Now you can either refuel like everyone else, or I can force refuel you. Your choice.”

Thundercracker continued to stare at the wall, jaw working in irritation, but didn’t say anything. Ratchet took a full cube of med-grade energon from his subspace and placed it on the berth next to the seeker. Thundercracker didn’t look at it, optics almost burning a hole in the metal surface in front of him.

“Skywarp doesn’t have any issues refuelling, he even had some rust sticks when I finished checking him today.” Thundercracker’s helm whipped round, too fast for the low pressure of fuel in his lines, and swayed in place, optics flickering off. Ratchet caught the closest shoulder, steadying the blue mech. The red optics turned back on, still glaring, but the angry field softened into something hollow and vulnerable, but only for a split second. Sensing an opening Ratchet continued, “I know Skywarp wants to see you, but I don’t think Prowl will let you unless you’re a bit more co-operative. Do you want to see Skywarp?”

“Yes” Thundercracker turned back to the wall, but his field flared again with that hollow longing. 

“Okay, are you going to drink that cube?” Ratchet nudged it closer, but Thundercracker ignored it. “Thundercracker! I am not kidding about force refuelling you.” The blue wings were twitching slightly and Thundercracker’s field felt uncertain, so Ratchet turned away. “Fine, I’ll give you ten clicks to make up your mind.” Ratchet crossed back to the door and slapped his servo on the opening panel, stalking out and letting it swish shut behind him.

Both Prowl and Jazz looked round at him as he came back into the main room, and Ratchet lost no time in sending both a comm, wanting to keep the conversation quiet.

::I’ve given him ten clicks to decide if he wants to be sensible and take a cube.::

::Think he will?:: asked Jazz, cocking his helm curiously ::And what are you going to do if he doesn’t?::

Ratchet shrugged, ::I don’t know. I tried appealing to his desire to see Skywarp. If it doesn‘t work I‘ll have to force refuel him::

::Will you need some assistance?:: enquired Prowl, ::I calculate a low chance that he will refuel voluntarily.::

::Yeah, I think he will need to experience the alternative before he’s going to be willing to take a cube from us.:: Ratchet snorted slightly. ::Skywarp is a lot easier to handle, and I never expected to say that!::

::You going to need Prowl to turn the generators on Ratch’?:: 

::Yes. I think the best thing will be for me to go in, give him one more warning, then call the two of you in.::

::Very well, then what?:: 

::I’ll need you to switch the generators on. From there I can work the tube down to his tank and magnetise it.:: He saw both mechs wince. ::It’s going to be painful for him. I anticipate fighting, tears and lots of stress, but if we are lucky we will only have to do it once and he’ll realise that refuelling properly will be easier all round.::

::Can’t you fuel him while he is in medical stasis?:: asked Prowl, but Ratchet shook his helm.

::It would actually be more dangerous for him. I’d have to open the emergency intake valve in his tank, and that can cause all sorts of cascade failures through his systems.::

::Fine.:: Prowl turned back to his desk, ::Call us when you need us.::

::What I don’t understand is why he won’t fuel.:: Jazz scrunched his olfactory sensor indicating his confusion, ::He won’t talk to us, won’t interact. Surely he understands that we can’t change anything if he doesn’t tell us what is wrong.::

::I think he’s probably frightened. He doesn’t trust us. I’m pretty sure all the seekers have been told some pretty extreme things about what would happen if they got captured.:: Ratchet huffed in irritation. ::I’m not willing to tolerate him harming himself. If I have to be cruel to be kind, and stop him actually hurting himself I will.:: The medic shook his helm sadly. ::He’s just a kid, and he’s trying to be big and tough but he’s got nothing to back it up.::

Ratchet checked his chronometer and moved back towards the door. He really hoped that Thundercracker had decided to be sensible. The seekers were proving to be erratic mechs.

The cube was still on the berth, although not quite where Ratchet had left it. Thundercracker was sitting in the same place with his wings slumped. As Ratchet got closer he could feel the miserable field being broadcast by the seeker, it was an unpleasant experience, but Ratchet had felt worse.

Ratchet picked up the cube and stood in front of the seeker, reaching out for his shoulder and gripping it consolingly.

“Have you had a think?” Thundercracker dropped his optics to the floor, as Ratchet pushed the cube towards him, “Thundercracker, please take the cube. “ The blue wings slumped further, but Thundercracker made no move a accept the offered energon. Ratchet stared at him for a moment, before removing his servo from Thundercracker’s shoulder.

“Fine.” he put the cube back on the berth, and reached for the other items in his subspace. “You are leaving me no choice.” Ratchet brandished the items he had taken out. “Let me tell you how this is going to work. I’m going to get Prowl to activate the stasis generators and pass this tube down your intake.” Thundercracker’s wings tensed, but he did not look up. “Trust me, it will not be pleasant. When the tube gets to your tank it magnetises to the valve which forces it open. It hurts,..a lot, and a pain patch won‘t have any effect. You really don’t want to go through that. Then we use the tube to get the energon into your tank, and that will hurt as well because it won’t be controlled ,the way it is when you swallow it. Its going to set all your sensors into overdrive.” Thundercracker glanced at him with a hopeless expression, but made no move towards the cube.

Ratchet huffed in irritation, and commed Prowl and Jazz.

::He’s not cooperating. You’re going to have to come in.::

Thundercracker growled when the two mechs came into the room, claws clicking into place. He tensed, ready to leap forward, but Prowl activated the stasis field and the seeker slumped, and would have toppled off the berth but Jazz darted forwards and caught him.

“Get him sitting up on the berth please.” Ratchet moved the cube aside as Jazz and Prowl rolled Thundercracker fully onto the berth. Jazz settled himself behind the seeker, pinning the blue arms to his waist. Prowl stroked the closest wing as Ratchet stepped to the other side of the berth, holding a small jaw wedge. 

“You going to open your mouth?” Thundercracker glared, clenching his jaw, but his field radiated his anxiety. Ratchet stroked back to the seekers jaw hinge, transforming a digit into a probe which he slid under the plating into the mechanism. A quick twist and Thundercracker’s jaw popped open. Ratchet pushed the wedge into his mouth before he could re-engage the hinge. The young mech shook his head, trying to dislodge the piece of metal and rubber forcing his jaw open, but Ratchet grabbed his chin.

“Here is how this is going to go…. Prowl is going to take your servo….” The Praxian gripped one of the pinned servos, lacing their digits together. “If you decide it hurts too much, or you want to drink the cube like a sensible mech you squeeze Prowls servo, and I will stop.” Thundercracker’s field thrummed with fear, but he continued to glare at Ratchet. “If you want to take the cube you still can. You don‘t have to keep acting the tough warrior.” red optics narrowed, but Prowl gave no indication that he had been given the signal.

“I don’ thin’ he’s gonna take it!” Jazz gripped Thundercracker a little tighter in preparation, locking his joints to prevent the blue seeker succeeding in shaking him off.

“Very well.” Ratchet let go of Thundercracker’s chin, and reached for the tube and the large speculum. Thundercracker began struggling again, trying to dislodge Jazz’s arms from his torso and Prowl’s servo from his own, but the stasis generators held firm. Ratchet gripped his chin again, working the speculum to the back of the open mouth. The seekers head jerked back when the tip of the speculum touched his intake valve. Ratchet pressed it further in, feeling the valve begin to iris open. There was a whimper from his patient, and Ratchet slowed down, adjusting his hold and stroking his digits down Thundercracker’s jaw. The field under his servos was boiling with anger, fear and humiliation, tinged with a bit of pain. Over the seekers shoulder Ratchet could see Jazz wince. The Autobot spy was highly sensitive to other mechs fields, with lots of specialised sensors to detect even minor changes in mood. The full scale assault from the mech he was holding would be unpleasant to say the least.

Ratchet carefully opened the speculum, earning another small noise of pain, and more wriggling. He extended it to its fullest setting before beginning to feed the tube down past the valve into the intake tube. Pain and fear became the dominant signals in Thundercracker’s field as his intake burned, but Ratchet was relentless, pushing the tube down further and further. 

“Stop!” Prowl snapped the word unexpectedly and Ratchet froze for a second before carefully beginning to withdraw the tube. Thundercracker whimpered again, optics off lining with the pain and Prowl rubbed little circles across the plating of his arm, trying to sooth him.

Ratchet pulled the tube out and closed the speculum, removing it and setting it and the tube aside. He stroked Thundercracker’s cheek before reaching back into the open mouth to remove the wedge. Slightly to his surprise Thundercracker did not attempt to bite which he had half expected. The younger mech kept his optics offline and whimpered again, vents straining as he attempted to calm down.

Jazz slackened his hold, freeing Thundercracker’s arms and moving his digits up the seekers helm which he petted gently. Ratchet opened the cube and pressed it into Thundercracker’s servos, tipping it towards his mouth.

“Drink it, I’m not doing this again.” All three mechs relaxed when Thundercracker took a sip of the cube, wincing a little as the strained valve and tubing flexed. Ratchet pushed the cube back when Thundercracker moved to put it down. “You are going to drink the whole cube Thundercracker. All of it!” There was a whine of protest but the seeker raised the cube back to his mouth, taking a bigger swallow.

Ratchet disconnected the energon line from Thundercracker’s arm while he drank the cube, feeling the way the blue mech shook. Pain, fear and humiliation still dominant in his field. Ratchet pushed reassurance and apology into his own field while Prowl and Jazz pressed close, petting the blue plating. Thundercracker finished the cube and dispersed it with a squeeze of his servo, then he sat staring at his knees.

Jazz crooned wordlessly to him, tugging to get the young seeker lying against his chest, holding and rocking him. Thundercracker off-lined his optics and allowed himself to be held, but his posture was stiff and unhappy.

::I can give him a standard pain patch.:: Ratchet commed to Prowl. ::It won’t deal with the pain properly, but it will take the edge off and hopefully relax him and help him recharge for a bit which should allow his self repair to take care of the rest.::

Prowls face and doorwings didn’t move, and his field remained calm as he replied ::Yes please Ratchet, I think we will all be more comfortable if he is a bit calmer.::

::OK::, Ratchet reached back into his subspace, removing a pain patch, before leaning in close to touch Thundercracker’s helm. The red optics snapped back on-line, and Ratchet held the pain patch out. “This should help with the pain, do you want me to download it?”

Thundercracker just stared dully at the medic, so Ratchet worked a servo around the back of his neck, stroking the connector at the base of his helm before plugging the patch in. Thundercracker stiffened, shifting as if to move away, but the patch began downloading. Jazz continued to croon at the seeker, stroking across the wide blue wings lying across his torso, and nuzzling at his helm, for all the world like a creator trying to sooth a fractious creation. 

Ratchet patted Thundercracker’s shoulder before picking up his scattered equipment, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. I’m not going to be pleased if you pull this little stunt again, clear?” He received a dull glare in response, and huffed s short vent of mixed exasperation and amusement.

“I’ll let you out.” said Prowl, gesturing him towards the door. Ratchet glanced back at the pair on the berth before turning and following the Praxian.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a game, and more fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a couple of hours early, because it has been a bad day!
> 
> I've got another 6 chapters of this baby already written. Trying to avoid obvious plot holes now requires trawling through 63 pages (and counting) of text to check what I wrote previously. This means all the plot holes you spot have formed spontaneously!
> 
> I'm torturing the characters for my own amusement, and because writing is more socially acceptable than a lot of things people do for fun! 
> 
> As always this is un-beta'd so the mistakes are the result of my own dreadful grasp of spelling, punctuation and grammar.

Ironhide had carried Skywarp most of the way back to his quarters when the black seeker began wriggling again. Ironhide gripped him a little tighter. The reason for his struggles became clear when Optimus rounded the corner, the seeker had detected the large body moving towards them using his passive sensors and clearly had not wanted to be caught being carried. As the Prime approached Skywarp stilled, field flickering with fear and optics focussed on the Prime. Ironhide could feel the black plating clamping tight and Skywarp’s wings tensing. Pain laced through the fear from the repaired damage.

“Prahm.” Ironhide greeted his faction leader, keeping a firm hold on Skywarp. “Did ya deal with those two pains in th’ aft?”

“Neither of them wants to apologise! I’ve advised them that you will be looking over their punishment detail.”

“Good.” Ironhide grunted. “Ya need ta talk ta me? Or ta Skywarp?”

“Both of you.” the Prime responded, ignoring the way that Skywarp’s field flared in terror and placing a reassuring servo on his shoulder. “I was planning on having my mid-cycle cube soon, I was hoping I could join you both for it?”

“Feel free.” Ironhide started walking again, ignoring Skywarp’s renewed squirming. “Ah was planning on grabbin’ a cube when ah get back to our quarters.”

Optimus joined them, exchanging small talk with Ironhide. Both mechs made periodic attempts to include Skywarp, but he remained silent.

At the door to his quarters Ironhide looked down at the mech in his arms. “Ya think ya can stand up on ya own?” Skywarp didn’t answer, but twisted, trying to break Ironhide’s grip. “Ok.” Ironhide carefully set the seeker on his peds, Skywarp staggered as his gyros overcompensated, but was caught by Optimus who steadied him with servos on his shoulders. Skywarp froze, but made no moves to pull away despite his fear. Ironhide turned back to the doorpad, entering his code to open it before stepping through. Optimus gently helped Skywarp in as the younger mech was stumbling over his own peds.

The Prime carefully steered Skywarp to the couch and got him sitting down. The black wings were trembling and Skywarp’s plating was once again clamped tightly to his frame. Ironhide drew three cubes from the dispenser and set them down on the table along with the supplement packets. He glanced at the shivering seeker, taking in the defensive posture. Skywarp was curled in on himself, arms hugging his cockpit and optics watching Optimus’ every move. 

“Kid!” Skywarp’s attention snapped to Ironhide, “Ya cold? Ah can bring ya blanket if ya like.” Skywarp flicked his attention between Ironhide and the Prime. The red mech had the impression that Skywarp wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to leave or stay. He took it as an encouraging sign that the younger mech was looking to him for protection, although none would actually be required. Deciding that Skywarp would probably be happier with something to hide behind Ironhide opted to collect the blanket.

He could feel Skywarp’s optics on him as he moved to the seekers room. Stepping into the room for the first time since Skywarp had moved in he could see the way the space had been made as defensive as possible. Skywarp’s nest, made up of the berth padding, was tucked under the crawlspace of the desk which itself had been turned to face the corner of the room furthest from the door. The berth frame had been placed in such a way that anyone entering the room had to negotiate it to reach the desk. It was, in fact, almost exactly the sort of set up that Ironhide would have used if he had been trapped in a room on the enemy’s base.

Although he had expected it, and even understood it, the clear distrust shown by the set up was a little disturbing. Ducking behind the desk Ironhide found the blanket, carefully folded on the berth padding. He had actually expected it to have been screwed up into a ball, or left as it had been kicked off when Skywarp had got up. It would have fitted better with what was known about Skywarp’s personality.

Snagging the blanket he ducked back out from under the desk, sparing a brief moment to wonder how the seeker could fit his wings under there, and navigated his way back to the door. The berth would need to be remade before Skywarp could recharge. Ironhide wondered if the younger mech would do so, despite Ratchets orders.

Skywarp had shuffled sideways on the couch slightly, away from Optimus who had perched himself at one end of it and was pretending not to notice either Skywarp’s fear or his unwavering stare. Ironhide shook the blanket out and draped it across Skywarp’s shoulders and wings. The seeker jumped slightly, but grabbed the edges of the fabric, pulling it around himself. Ironhide seated himself on the other end of the couch, bracketing Skywarp in, and reached for the cubes on the table. He passed one to Optimus, and nudged the other towards Skywarp.

“I forgot my supplements.” Optimus huffed gently. “I’ll have to drink it without.” he opened the cube and took a long pull, humming with pleasure at the taste. He glanced towards Skywarp who was still watching him and smiled. “Don’t tell Ratchet!”

“Ah take it th’ supplements he’s got ya takin’ are not ta ya taste?”

“No.” Optimus grimaced with distaste. “Far too much cobalt and potassium. Makes it bitter. But Ratchet insists!”

“Ah don’t mind th’ bitter ones, It’s th’ sweet ones ah don’t like. Too sickly.” Ironhide took a scoop from his supplement packet and added it to his cube as he spoke, before taking a swig. Skywarp was still staring at Optimus, so Ironhide tapped the unopened cube on the table. “Drink up. Ratch’ won’t be happy if ya don’t.”

Skywarp flicked a glance at the cube, but his optics shot back to the Prime when Optimus shifted slightly to look at him. Optimus smiled reassuringly at him, but Skywarp dropped his gaze, staring at his knees and fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. His wings trembled, making the fabric covering them flutter. Optimus wanted to reach out and comfort the nervous young mech, but held back, unsure how the seeker would take it.

Ironhide reached for the cube, opened it, and scooped some of Skywarp’s supplements into it. He swirled the mixture, and pushed it at the seeker, hoping that the young mech would take an open cube from him.

“Drink up.”

Skywarp stared at him, but made no move to take the energon. Ironhide resettled himself, pulling Skywarp to lean against him. Skywarp stiffened, field flaring in unease, but not the terror Ironhide had felt a few cycles previously. Skywarp seemed to be concentrating his fear on the Prime. While Skywarp was off balanced Ironhide pushed the cube back at him. He took it, almost spilling some when Ironhide’s servo rested against his shoulder, gently rubbing the plating through the fabric of the blanket.

Optimus reset his vocaliser, making Skywarp jump, and almost spill the cube again. It was saved by Ironhide steadying it with his free servo.

“Ironhide is right. Ratchet will start yelling if he finds out you’ve skipped on refuelling.” Optimus smiled at him again, field calm. “I do need to ask you, what happened earlier? I spoke to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and watched the security footage, but I want your side of things as well.”

Skywarp dropped his optics to the cube, swirling the contents again. He could feel Ironhide’s field where he lent against the older mech. Ironhide was calm and reassuring and the servo rubbing circles against his shoulder plating was obscurely comforting. He took a slow sip of the cube, trying to avoid answering the Primes question. Optimus and Ironhide were silent, watching him carefully. The servo an his shoulder went from rubbing to gripping gently. He re-set his vocaliser nervously.

“Was bored.” The seekers voice was soft. “So I got up. Then he hit me.” Ironhide started rubbing his plating again, and Optimus sat back. Skywarp kept his optics on the energon.

“Okay, did you know Sideswipe was in the medbay? You didn‘t deliberately set out to make him angry?” Optimus’ tone suggested that he was not entirely convinced by Skywarp’s explanation, but he didn’t push.

“No.” Skywarp didn’t raise either his voice or his optics, taking another slow sip of his cube. He clearly did not want to answer any questions. Optimus had to fight the urge to pull the mech into his arms and try to sooth away his unease. He studiously kept his servos to himself, not willing to spook the seeker.

“Fine. I’m not upset with you. No-one said you were not allowed to wander around the medbay and I’m sorry that Sideswipe jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Optimus looked back up at Ironhide. “I’m happy to let you determine what punishment both twins receive ‘Hide.”

“Ah’d separate ‘em. Fer at least ten cycles. Get ‘em on opposite sides of th’ planet, helping’ with th’ clean up. That‘s th‘ only thing that‘s worked in th‘ past.”

“Very well.” Optimus’ optics dimmed slightly as he activated his comm unit. “Sideswipe will be on the next shuttle out.”

“Thanks.” Ironhide patted Skywarp’s shoulder, encouraging him to sit up. “Ya want a game of Empire? We haven’t played fer a long time.” He stood, giving Skywarp’s shoulder another squeeze.

::I take it this is Skywarp socialisation time as well?:: asked Optimus over the comm line.

::Yep, he was pretty good with Ratch’ earlier, as far as I can tell at least. So I want to capitalise on that. I know he’s scared of you, but he needs to be around other mechs.”

“Yes. I’ve not got anything urgent on my desk.” Optimus replied out loud. “Have you still got the set you made?” He looked over at Skywarp, “Did anyone ever teach you to play Empire?”

The seeker shifted his gaze between Ironhide and the Prime, before looking back down at the still unfinished cube in his servos and raising it to his mouth. He stayed silent and Optimus glanced up at Ironhide.

::Is this normal?::

::Yes. If I want him to talk I usually have to push for a response.::

::Is he just frightened, or something else?::

::Ratch’ said something about not being sure about his language skills.::

“Ah’ll go find th’ set. Could ya clear th’ table Skywarp?” Ironhide moved away towards his room as the seeker stared nervously up at him. Crimson optics flicked to the Prime again and Skywarp slid off the couch, putting the table between them. His balance was still a little off, and he stumbled slightly, but caught himself.

Optimus deliberately turned to look at Ironhide’s open door. His passive sensors felt Skywarp moving and picking up the furthest supplement packet, then hover uncertainly. Suddenly the seeker darted in to grab the second packet before skittering back out of range. Optimus carefully kept his head turned away and felt the black mech move back towards the energon dispenser. Skywarp didn’t step back towards the table so Optimus turned to look at him. The seeker was still watching him, blanket clutched across his cockpit, wings held low. He looked like he wanted to bolt for the safety of his room.

Optimus tried another reassuring smile, but Skywarp didn’t move, so he decided to try another tack. 

“Do you want to come and sit with me?” He patted the couch next to him encouragingly, “We can play together.” There was no movement from the seeker, but Ironhide came back into the room with a small box. He considered Skywarp for a moment, taking in his position and demenor, before putting the box down on the table.

“Ya want ta go sit on th’ couch kiddo?” he noticed the seeker eying the path to his own room and moved to block the route as unobtrusively as possible. “Come on, ah’ll show ya how we set th’ board up.”

Reluctantly Skywarp crossed back to the couch and perched at the very end. Optimus beckoned him closer, but there was no movement apart from a renewed shaking. Ironhide passed the Prime Skywarp’s unfinished cube from the tabletop. In turn Optimus held the cube out to the young mech.

“Come on. Finish your cube.” Skywarp shuffled a little closer, clearly unwilling, but worried about the consequences of disobedience. When he got near enough Optimus could feel the wave of fear flooding the black mechs field, and see how hard he was shaking. Optimus responded instinctively by reaching for his connection with the Matrix. The artefact amplified the calm and reassurance in his own field, pushing it towards Skywarp. It was a trick Optimus had used countless times after battles to help sooth injured mechs in the medbay and reassure the frightened. He handed the cube to Skywarp, who took it, but did not shuffle back away.

::What is he so frightened of?::

::No idea. It’s like he is expecting me to beat the slag outta’ him, or worse. I guess he got told some pretty extreme stuff about what would happen if he got taken prisoner.::

Ironhide finished taking playing pieces from the box, and pressed a button on the side, transforming it into a board. The surface was covered with interlocking coloured hexagonal of different sizes.

“Ya want ta be red or blue?”

“Red please.” Ironhide pushed the pile of red pieces towards the Prime and began setting up his own side of the board. Optimus turned to Skywarp and began explaining the rudiments of the game.

************************************************************************

Ratchet resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief when he finished rethreading a particularly delicate set of optic cables in Starscream’s optical sockets. The operation had been a long and difficult one, although the medic knew that it was far from the last he would have to perform. Carefully he replaced the covers which he had installed to keep dust and dirt out of the open sockets. Starscream would have no optics or vocaliser if he woke up now.

Ratchet checked the seekers vital signs once more, and settled down in front of the console to log the details of the work he had done. The medical file was already long, and privately Ratchet would count himself amazed if the seeker ever came out of stasis. When faced with the sort of trauma Starscream had suffered a lot of mechs would suffer a fatal crash and offline completely. The seeker was stable, for now, but Ratchet was unsure what his overall chances were.

He logged out of the console and grabbed the data pad with the notes about his next patient before heading back into the main medbay, locking the door on his way out. Behind him the spark monitor blinked steadily in time with the energy pulses produced by Starscream’s spark.

Kup had Thrust already sitting on the berth when Ratchet arrived. The young seeker had his servos cuffed together and was holding himself rigid. Thrusts field was full of anger, much of it directed at the old sergeant who stood by the berth with a servo on his shoulder. Behind the anger there was a desperate sort of defiance, suggesting that this examination would go about as well as any of the others.

Bracing himself Ratchet stepped over to his patient, pushing calm professionalism into his field.

****************************************************************  
Optimus had left after two games, called away by a comm from Prowl about the plan to destroy the Nemesis. He had spoken about it briefly to Ironhide, and Skywarp, who had been relaxing marginally, had suddenly become very withdrawn. Ironhide had made a mental note to try to draw the seeker out about what was troubling him. First though something needed to be done about Skywarp’s room. The red mech had contemplated fixing the berth himself, but suspected that Skywarp would be happier if he stayed out of the room as much as possible. Of course this meant entrusting the task to Skywarp himself.

“Ratch’ said ya need ta recharge on th’ berth tonight.” Skywarp looked down at his servos. Ironhide was beginning to read that as Skywarp not wanting to hear or do something. “Do ya need me ta help ya put th’ berth back together?”

“No.” Skywarp was still staring down and Ironhide was instantly suspicious. 

“Ya know that Ratchet’s gonna’ blow a fuse if ya don’t!” he paused staring down at the seeker, “Don’t expect me ta protect ya.” Skywarp hunched his shoulders slightly so Ironhide decided to try another tactic. “Ah was goin’ ta talk ta Prowl about lettin’ ya see Thundercracker soon. But if Ratch’ says ya haven’t been rechargin’ he’s probably gonna’ want ya back in th’ medbay so we’ll have ta wait.” Skywarp had raised his head at the mention of his trine mate with a unguarded expression of hope on his face. “Ya sure ya don’t want me ta help?”

Skywarp didn’t move, so Ironhide reached out a servo to pat the closest shoulder. The contact showed him that Skywarp’s field was a confused mix of need and fear and something Ironhide could not identify, it almost felt like loneliness or nostalgia. It was clear that more direct action would be required, so Ironhide pulled the seeker gently towards his room.

“Come on, if ya do it now we can sit an’ watch somethin’ until it’s time to recharge.” Skywarp went with him docilely enough, although he was clearly still nervous. Ironhide made a mental note to check that the bed was usable before shutting the seeker in for the night.

He waited at the threshold of the room until Skywarp had entered, then returned to the main room to put the game away. Checking his chronometer he was a little surprised that so much time had passed. He decided to give the seeker a jour to get the room straight before calling him back out and trying to find out what was bothering him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a massive fit of the sulks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit shorter than most my chapters because it just seemed so self contained. 
> 
> I'm hoping this contains the explanation (or at least some of it) that some people have said they are waiting for. There will be other revelations to come I hope!.

Thundercracker had had to endure the indignity of being fussed over by Jazz for three whole jours. The Polyhexian mech had persisted in holding him tight and treating him like an upset sparkling. It made Thundercracker’s plating crawl. He didn’t want to be here, and he certainly didn’t want to be treated like a sparkling. He was a fully upgraded mech and had been a warrior for vorns. 

He also had his suspicions about Jazz’s motives. The saboteur had a nasty reputation among the Decepticons. Thundercracker had once spent twenty cycles on a transport with Vortex and Swindle, so rumours of Jazz’s far less extreme methods of torture didn’t really impress him. Jazz had so far not offered him any violence, or attempted to take advantage, but Thundercracker refused to let his guard down.

His intake felt very raw, and relaxing the valve at the back of his throat hurt. The pain patch hadn’t done much good , but it had made him too disorientated to really complain about Jazz and Prowl fussing over him. He would never admit, even to himself, to how good it had felt to come out of the light recharge he had fallen into to the sensation of being held.

Thundercracker missed his Trine fiercely. He worried about Skywarp, trapped with Ironhide. Worried about what the Autobot was doing, or was forcing Skywarp to do. While he was worried, at least he knew where Skywarp was, he didn’t have the same certainty about Starscream. Thinking about his Trineleader made his spark flutter nervously. Starscream was still alive, but that was all he knew. An unguarded comment from Prowl told him that Starscream was in the medbay, but he didn’t know what they were doing to him there. Would they release him to the care of another Autobot, or would the put him in the brig?

A wave of desolation hit him suddenly and Thundercracker felt very, very alone. No Trinemates around him, no other seekers, not even any other Decepticons. Just Autobots…enemies. Not that they could do anything worse to him than he had already experienced, but he had always tried to protect his Trine and now he couldn’t. He ruthlessly clamped down on the whimper that wanted to escape from his vocaliser, and reigned in his field. Now was not the time to indulge in his fear, there was too much danger that the Autobots would find out. He refused to allow them to use Skywarp against him.

“D’ya want some energon?” Thundercracker’s helm jerked up. He had been unaware of Jazz standing in the doorway, and he scowled at the Autobot. Jazz gave no indication that he was aware of Thundercracker’s irritation and strolled up to the berth, carrying an opened cube of energon. Thundercracker eyed it dubiously. The cube was open, so who knew what had been added, but he certainly did not want the force fuelling experience again. Jazz clearly spotted his reluctance and swung himself up on the berth beside the seeker. “I added th’ supplements Ratch’ says y’gotta’ take. I‘m stayin‘ ‘till y’drink it ‘s well.”

Thundercracker shuffled sideways, away from Jazz’s encroaching field, but took the cube. He stared at it dubiously, noting the faint glitter of additives.

“I’ve got Ratch’s comm line queued up if y’don’ drink it.” Jazz’s tone was light, but his field was full of steely determination. Thundercracker took a tiny sip of the cube, rolling it across his chemoreceptors. It was bitter with Potassium, but not undrinkable. He couldn’t detect anything other than the additives and the energon. He pulled a face and drank the rest, field reflecting his displeasure at the taste.

“You should try th’ stuff he’s got me on! Waaaay too sour .” Jazz scrunched his olfactory plating, twisting his mouth in remembered disgust. “I got Groove to make me some rust sticks. Y’want one?” He offered a packet to Thundercracker, clearly filled with the promised treats. Thundercracker eyed it even more dubiously than the cube, but made no move to accept one. “Y’sure? I’m goin’ to get Groove to show me how to make ‘em.” Jazz put the packet back in his subspace.

Thundercracker turned away from the spy and stared at the wall. Jazz had made a number of attempts to talk to him since he had been taken into Prowls custody. Thundercracker was not planning on talking to any Autobot, the medic earlier notwithstanding. Autobots had destroyed his home city, killed his creators and, by their actions, forced the remaining seekers to put young sparklings into adult frames as their only means of protection. He remembered vividly the constant moving from apartment to apartment, with his creators trying to stay one step ahead of the Autobot council and their enforcers. He remembered cowering in a hidden cubbyhole while the enforcers searched his creators quarters, searching for him, because mechs earning less than a certain amount were not allowed to raise their own sparklings.

Thundercracker knew he wasn’t the only young mech who had been bought up by creators deemed “unsuitable” by the ruling elite. The Decepticon ranks were full of similar stories. Soundwave had been forced to frame his sparklings as drones to protect them. Other mechs had been taken from their creators and bought up in state run orphanages, forced into “appropriate” careers as miners or cleaners, denied a basic education and, in turn, denied the chance to raise their own sparklings.

Thundercracker may have been very young when his city state had been bombed, but he could remember the secret playgroups where sparklings born in secret were cared for while their creators worked. He remembered hand made toys and story pads made from reprogrammed news pads. After Vos had been bombed he, and his fellow orphans had been smuggled out to hidden facilities where it had been hoped they would be safe, but when two of the five had been bombed it had been deemed that even these were unsafe, and the remaining Vosians had made a last ditch effort to protect their sparklings. 

He also remembered the pain of his upgrades, the fear of the older mechs around him, and the disorientation as his spark tried to adjust to his new frame. The overload of new programming swamping his neural net, the confusing induction into the ranks of the Decepticons, most of whom had no idea he was not a fully upgraded adult mech and the sadness caused by the deaths of other young mechs whose sparks could not support the hasty upgrades.

Over the vorns Thundercracker had focussed those feelings into anger against the Autobot grounders who had stolen innocent sparklings and clipped their wings. Anger that they had stolen his own sparkling hood. Anger that they had killed so many seekers.

Thundercracker kept his vocaliser muted, his field broadcasting his disgust and his optics on the wall as Jazz sat and watched him.

“Y’Ok mech?” Jazz allowed his field, warm and reassuring, to flow over the blue seeker who hunched his shoulders and flicked his wings in irritation. “Y’intake still hurtin’?”

Thundercracker didn’t dignify that with so much as a look at the other mech. It was a stupid question, he’d had his intake forced open and a large object fed down it, of course it still hurt!

“Th’ silen’ treatment won’t work forever y’know.” Thundercracker almost snorted, this mech was obviously unaware of the time he had refused to speak to Skywarp and Starscream for the equivalent of two Earth years. Starscream had caved in first, and apologised. He knew it was petty, and more than a little childish, but he would try to frustrate the Autobots as long as possible. 

Jazz slid an arm around Thundercracker, who jumped and stiffened, field pulsing with a sick revulsion. Jazz winced internally, but kept his arm where it was, wanting to get some more information about the young mechs reactions.

“Whazzup? Y’don’ wan’ to talk, ’n mech, I get tha’, but y’field says ya ain’t happy ’bout th’ situation an’ I think y’need to deal wi’ tha’.” Resentment and sullen anger flooded Thundercracker's field and Jazz snorted. “This ain’t th’ way to deal. Trust me. S‘not healthy mech.” he patted the shoulder under his servo. “Ratch’ wants to give y’a check up tomorrow so Prowl will be takin’ y’ta th’ medbay. I don’ advise givin’ Ratch’ this attitude. Y’saw what he was like earlier.”

Thundercracker snorted, but Jazz noted that his field now held a thread of interest. It made sense that the seeker was getting bored of the same four walls. Jazz decided to try another tactic to get a reaction.

“Ratch’ says Skywarp had a run in wi’ th’ twins earlier.” that got a definite reaction. Thundercracker stiffened, and his field rippled with worry, then a much hotter, brighter anger. Jazz opted to continue, prodding for more. “Seems Sides’ took exception to Skywarp bein’ in th’ medbay wi’out proper supervision ‘n tried to rip his wings off.”

Thundercracker snarled, flinging himself away from Jazz and leaping from the berth, engine whining and sonics attempting to activate. There was an unpleasant grinding noise from the damper, but it held firm. The spy noticed that Thundercracker had unsheathed his claws and was flexing them in his agitation and opted to keep his distance. He did comm Prowl and the tactician quickly appeared at the door of the room. Thundercracker saw him as well, and his wings slumped. He crossed his arms over his cockpit, claws retracting again, and glared at both Autobots.

“Is there an issue Thundercracker?” Prowls voice was calm, and the younger mech snorted in irritation. Jazz had the impression that he wanted to make a snappy remark back, but was restraining himself. “Very well. Would you like to come and sit in the other room?” There was another explosive snort and Thundercracker deliberately turned his back on the Autobots, stalking over to the rooms window and staring out.

Jazz just shook his helm at Prowl, ushering him out of the room.

::Come on, I’ll explain outside.::


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is mutual miss-communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep seeing all the lovely comments from readers, and I worry that the fic is heading in a direction none of us will expect. 
> 
> The second scene was all plotted, then I started writing and it did a complete 180. I've no idea where it came from.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read and comment.

Skywarp had been back in his room for at least half a jour. Once he had tidied the berth the young seeker had come back out into the main room of Ironhides quarters and Ironhide had asked Teletraan to play an Earth film. It was one of the sort that the younger Autobots usually enjoyed, so Ironhide had considered it to be a safe bet. Skywarp had actually appeared rather bored, by his choice, although he had sat quietly, and then taken his energon before disappearing back into his room when Ironhide had taken his optics off him.

Ironhide wasn’t going to push. The young flier had had a stressful cycle and was likely to be still feeling the effects of the hard code re-set. Ironhide was, however, going to check on the seeker before he went to his own berth. 

Ironhide deactivated the pad he was reading, it was earlier in the cycle than he would usually recharge, but truthfully he was getting bored of the enforced inactivity. It had been anticipated that the seekers would test their caretakers out by acting up and attempting to escape. None of the scenarios considered to be most likely had actually played out. Ironhide suspected that the Autobots had made a serious error initially by expecting mechs reared from sparklings under strict military discipline to behave like Autobot younglings. The seekers behaved like prisoners of war, not irresponsible children. 

He would honestly have preferred some youngling-like behaviour, like rewiring the energon dispenser or switching the labels of the cleaning products. Skywarp was quite the prankster if the Autobots intelligence was to believed. The terrified, withdrawn mech with whom he was sharing his quarters worried him. The poor kid did not appear to understand the rules on the treatment of prisoners, or even to believe that there were rules in place.

Ironhide expected that allowing the young mech to see his trine mates regularly would help alleviate some of Skywarp’s issues, and hopefully build up some trust. Letting the seeker fly would probably be just as good, but with the mech still technically a prisoner he would need to demonstrate that Skywarp was compliant, and not a danger to anyone.

Putting the pad back on the shelf Ironhide crossed to the door to Skywarps room. He lifted a servo to knock, when a soft sound from the room made him pause. It was a whimper, accompanied by a short, explosive hitch of vents. Ironhide had heard similar sounds before, holding Bluestreak when the little gunner was woken by a bad memory purge, calming Sunstreaker when Sideswipe was unconscious in the medbay or rocking Bumblebee after a mission gone bad. The sound of an unhappy mech, in need of comfort.

Ironhide opened the door to the room. The lights were down, but there was no-one on the berth. A second hitch of vents was smothered, but it directed Ironhides attention to Skywarps frame curled up in the corner of the room. Crimson optics were focussed on him, and Skywarps vents hitched again.

Ironhide was into the room and kneeling beside the hunched figure before he had really weighed up the options. Too many vorns of dealing with mechs who ran a high risk of harming themselves or someone else in this state caused him to act on instinct. He sat down beside the seeker, pulling him in for a loose hug, and keeping his servos free to restrain the seeker if he got violent.

“What’s wrong kiddo?” Skywarps field felt devastated, as if he had lost something important. His vents hitched again, but he didn’t whimper. Ironhide re-adjusted himself, tucking Skywarp more firmly against his chassis, allowing him to grasp one of the seekers servos, while the other was trapped between their bodies. He dropped the servo around Skywarps shoulders to the hinges of the seekers wings. Skywarp stiffened, vents stuttering and Ironhide could feel his sudden fear at the contact.

From his experience comforting Bluestreak Ironhide knew how sensitive hinges for wings, or doors, could be. Ratchet had noted that Skywarps interfacing protocols had never been activated, so the gentle touches would not cause inadvertent arousal. Ironhide rubbed little circles across the plating, ignoring the way it twitched and clamped tight.

“What’s wrong?” Ironhide repeated, rocking the seeker gently. “Is it ya trine mates?” because that was the only thing Ironhide could think of that would cause this reaction. “Did somethin’ happen?”

He felt Skywarp shaking his helm, and relaxed slightly. He knew that Ratchet was concerned about Starscream, and was not entirely sure if he would come out of stasis. He kept stroking Skywarps back, feeling the fear, and the sense of loss. 

“Ah can’t help if ya don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Ironhide allowed his engine to rumble gently, something which usually calmed Bumblebee when he was upset. He was rewarded by a fractional relaxation of the mech he was holding. “Ah might be able ta help ya.”

“’s going to destroy it.” The words were muffled, overlaid by another gasp of vents, and a whine of Skywarps own engine.

“Ya talkin’ about th’ Nemisis?”

Skywarp nodded again and Ironhide hugged him closer. A worrying suspicion flooded him. “What’s wrong, are there more prisoners?” relief flooded him when Skywarp shook his helm. “We can’t let th’ humans get th’ tech on board. That’s why it has ta be destroyed.” Skywarp whimpered and his vents heaved, misery swamping the fear in his field.

“What’s wrong? Come on kiddo, ya need ta talk at me.” 

“S’nothing!” Skywarp accompanied the soft declaration with a more empathic helm shake.

“Ah don’t think it’s nothing’. It it were nothin’ ya wouldn’t be this upset, so what is it?” Skywarp just whimpered again. Ironhide decided to try another track. Skywarp was obviously not going to give him a straight answer. He pulled away, putting a servo under Skywarps chin and lifting it gently. “Skywarp!” his tone was stern, and the seeker flinched. “Ah need ya ta talk ta me.”

“Got stuff there!” There was another smothered in-vent, and Ironhide pulled Skywarp back in for another hug. He thought back to when the seekers had first been placed in the brig. They had been stripped of all their weapons, and their subspaces had been searched and the contents confiscated. Ironhide realised that anything which hadn’t been a weapon was probably still sitting in a storage box in a locked room somewhere. The thought made him a bit uncomfortable, both that Skywarp had been stripped of all the items that might be important to him, and that he, and all the other Autobots, had failed to recognise this, and to make sure that their prisoners had been given their possessions back when they had been released.

“Oh kid! Ahm sorry, we didn’t think of that.” Skywarp gave another whine, wings drooping and Ironhide stood, tugging him to his peds. “Come on, we need at speak ta Prahm. He won‘t allow anythin’ ta happen once we tell him what th‘ problem is.” Skywarp pulled back a bit, fearful again, but Ironhide steered him gently into the main room.

**********************************************************************************

Ratchet had finished Cliffjumpers check up, and regular round of ‘take your fragging supplements or else’, when First Aid pinged him to let him know that Ironhide and Skywarp were in the medbay so he could check Skywarps wealds. He dismissed the red minibot with his customary threat of reformatting and deactivated the privacy screen.

Cliffjumper scowled at the sight of the young seeker, and started making a determined beeline for where he stood with Ironhide, but Ratchet placed a warning servo on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t. I’ve already had the twins in the brig for starting fights in my medbay and I’m sure you don’t want to join them.” Cliffjumper huffed in irritation, but allowed Ratchet to steer him in the direction of the door. The medic chose to ignore the sotto voice comments about “Fragging ‘Cons and “Should let them rust in the brig”.

Cliffjumper successfully dealt with he stepped towards his next patient. He immediately noted Skywarp was looking guilty and suspected that either his advice about the recharge or the berth had been ignored. Ironhide flashed him a quick smile, but kept a firm grip on Skywarp who was pulling away slightly again.

“Come on.” Ratchet jerked his helm in the direction of the closest med berth. “Lets get these wealds checked.” Ironhide gave the seeker a little push forward and looked over at Ratchet.

“Ya want me ta stay Ratch’?”

“No, you can wait over there.” he gestured to a chair set by the door to allow guards to wait while prisoners were examined and Ironhide obediently crossed to it and sat down. Ratchet activated the privacy screen around himself and Skywarp and gestured towards the berth. “Lie down, on your front, and try to relax. It won’t take long.”

Skywarp was moving slowly, and his field was distinctly guilty, but he settled down as instructed. Ratchet was quick to start his scans, shifting plating to check the work he had performed. Skywarp was still tense so he ran a servo across the closest wing, making his field calm and professional.

“Ok, they are looking good. If you sit up I’ll check that your self repair is prioritising correctly.” Skywarp was reluctant, but obedient and perched on the edge of the berth. Ratchet noted the tense wings, and the way he kept his servos tucked under his cockpit. Ratchet reached out, keeping all his impatience firmly out of his field. “We just did this last cycle, you know how it works.” Skywarp tentatively offered up his servo which Ratchet took carefully, moving at a leisurely pace to open the port cover.

When he had plugged in and allowed his systems to cycle through the sync he could see why Skywarp was so nervous. The young mech had managed a fifteen breem defrag cycle, barely enough time to deal with the effects of the code reset, let along re-prioritise his self repair. Ratchet was just pleased that he had managed any sort of defrag. He disconnected the probe, and patted Skywarps servo.

“You know what I’m going to say. I‘m happy you managed some recharge, but I do want you getting more.” Skywarp was staring up at him, expression confused. “What, you thought I’d shout because you didn’t get as much recharge as I’d like?” He patted Skywarps servo again, taking a packet of rust sticks from his subspace and handing one to the seeker. “I do need you to work on it, I’ll give you some more supplements to take before you recharge. That said, your self repair is going to need some help.” Skywarp was staring at his knees again, nibbling the treat. “I know you don’t like it, but you need magnet therapy, so you need to make your mind up whether you prefer Bluestreak or Jazz.”

Ratchet paused, looking at Skywarp who had pulled his field and plating in tight. Ratchet bit back a sharp comment. For a less nervous patient he would have said something cutting, but he was unsure how Skywarp would take it. Instead he placed a reprimanding servo on the nearest wing again as the seeker finished the rust stick.

“There is another thing I need to talk to you about.” Skywarp kept his optics down and the medic tapped his wing. “Skywarp!” The younger mech raised his head, meeting Ratchets optics. “I need to know which programming you are missing.”

Skywarp recoiled violently, wings hiked up, and snarled at Ratchet…who was entirely unimpressed.

“Stop that!” Skywarp backed off further, wings still held high. “Do you want me to get Ironhide in?” The seeker stopped growling, but kept out of range, wary expression on his face.

“Not reprogramming me!” Crimson optics burned and Skywarps voice was angry and hissing. This was exactly what he had feared. The Autobots would reprogram them, turn them into compliant little slaves. Make him a berth warmer for Ironhide, or worse, the Prime. He would die first!

“No.” Ratchet was sharp, and the word came out like the crack of an energon whip. He took a calming vent and brought the shock and anger in his field under control. “No.” his voice was calmer, but Skywarp was obviously unconvinced. “I think you might be missing some basic programming.”

“Not!” Skywarp hissed the word, claws not unsheathed, but certainly threatened. He got off the berth , backing off. Ratchet was still unimpressed.

“Sit. Down.” The words were spoken softly but firmly, then, when Skywarp just stood glowering at him snapped “NOW!”

Skywarp flicked his wings, giving an irritated little click, but moved back to the berth. Ratchet deliberately smoothed his field. Skywarp was clearly uncomfortable with the discussion, but it would be more difficult to get him to talk to Wheeljack about it.

“We will have this discussion like adult mechs.” Ratchet took another calming vent and counted to ten before continuing. “I think you are missing some language programming. Can you speak any earth languages?” Skywarp just sneered. “Fine! I’ll try another question, how long did it take you to learn Cybertronian Standard?”

Skywarp was silent, but the question had answered itself. A mech who had basic language programming would not need to physically learn the language. The programming would download it automatically, allowing instant spoken and written comprehension. Equally, without the basic programming other programs, allowing fluency in other languages, and the ability to read and write could not be run. Skywarp was probably missing the full set.

“Who taught you to speak Standard?” Ratchets tone was mild and not a quiver betrayed how interested he was in the answer. Skywarp was looking puzzled, the questioning was not going the way he expected.

“Starscream.” Skywarp admitted at last, wings starting to settle.

“Did he just teach you to speak it, or can you read and write as well?” Ratchet chalked the answer into the ‘Starscream being older than the other seekers’ column. 

“Can read.” there was a touch of pride in the younger mechs tone “can write too.” Ratchet nodded, humming slightly. He suspected that Skywarp probably could not read or write quickly or fluently. He had visions of snatched lessons taking place between duty shifts, learning to understand basic orders and commands, learning to read and write after action reports, but not reading for pleasure, not understanding enough to enjoy Cybertronian culture.

“It does sound like your language programming should be better.” Skywarp bristled again, and Ratchet stared coldly at him. “I’m going to get Wheeljack to take a look.” The growl started again, “Stop that! He’ll just look, not make any edits or download anything. I promise. We‘ve got very strict regulations about editing a mechs programming!” Skywarp looked unhappy and Ratchet opted to drop the subject temporarily, deactivating the privacy screen.

::You ok Ratch‘?:: Ironhide was looking over at them, optics narrowed. ::Seems like I could hear raised voices in there::

::It was nothing. I tried broaching the subject of his programming and it spooked him.::

::Did he get violent.:: Ironhide stood and made his way towards them.

::No, there was a bit of snarling, but he sat back down when I told him to. No worse than the Twins on a bad day.::

Ironhide was quick to grip Skywarps arm when he reached them, wanting to forestall any potential trouble. Skywarp recoiled from the annoyance in his field, and he buried it carefully, not wanting to cause further issues.

“I’ll comm First Aid to get the supplements ready for you, they will be done in a jour or so.” said Ratchet out loud. “And I need you to think about whether you’d prefer Jazz or Bluestreak to perform the magnet therapy.” Skywarp was watching him warily, obviously expecting him to mention his outburst to Ironhide. “I also want you getting at least four jours of defrag time every cycle. Apart from that you are good to go.” He pulled a data pad from his subspace as he spoke, clearly dismissing them.

“Thanks Ratch’.” Iromhides tone was amused as he and Skywarp began heading for the door. “We’ll swing by later ta pick up th’ supplements.”

Ratchet gave a distracted wave, already buried in the data pad.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which items are regained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a bit lax about writing every day recently. I'm running out of chapters to post...
> 
> I need to pull my finger out!

Ironhide turned right, instead of left when they exited the medbay, causing Skywarp to stumble over his peds at the unexpected change in direction.

“Come on, we’re goin’ ta get ya stuff from storage.” 

Skywarp stumbled after him, off balance and confused. The thought of getting back the very few precious items he had kept in his subspace was tempting, but he was suspicious. The conversation with Ratchet about reprogramming him had him questioning the motives of the Autobots.

Ironhide tugged him along, he could feel residual irritation from the red mech, which worried him. An angry Ironhide did not bode well for his comfort and safety when he got back to their quarters. He wasn’t sure why his caretaker was irritated, unless he had heard Ratchet snapping at him. The thought made him slow and dig his peds in, worry intensifying. He didn’t want to go anywhere with the older mech in this mood.

Ironhide could feel Skywarp's concern. He knew his field was irritated, and tried to keep it contained, but he was a little upset that Ratchet had failed to call him when it was clear that the seeker had gotten out of hand. Ratchet had been his friend for vorns and he hated it when the medic placed himself in harms way. He didn’t really blame Skywarp, although he knew that the mech had overreacted. He was also well aware that his own temper was not good. A night without recharge, worrying over his own morals, had culminated in a comm from Optimus suggesting that Skywarp should be included in the hastily arranged mission back to the Nemesis in a few cycles time.

When Skywarp started pulling away Ironhide reacted by swinging around and gripping both his upper arms, bringing them to a halt. Immediately the worry Skywarp was radiating blossomed into true fear, and his optics brightened as they stared at him.

Ironhide took two or three deep, calming in-vents and relaxed his hard grip. He realised guiltily that he had left small dents on Skywarp's plating with the force of his hold. He stroked across the damaged area in mute apology, Skywarp winced, but said nothing.

“Ah’m sorry kid. Ah shouldn’t be draggin’ ya around. An’ ah shouldn‘t have hurt ya.” He ran his servos up and down the seekers arms a couple more times, field flooding with remorse. “Ya happy ta collect ya stuff right now?” Skywarp nodded mutely, clearly confused by the sudden change in Ironhide's demeanour. 

They started moving again, a little more slowly this time, and Ironhide decide to distract his charge, who was still clearly agitated. 

“So Ratch’ says ya need magnet therapy huh?” He looked directly at Skywarp, who nodded again, dropping his optics to the floor. Ironhide sighed internally, he was getting tired of these one-sided conversations where Skywarp was reluctant to even look up at him. He decided to push on rather than continue in silence. “Ah had ta have that ‘bout a vorn ago on mah knee joint. Fixed it right up. Ah had loads’a superficial damage ta th’ plating, an’ th’ joint, but ah couldn’t walk ‘till th’ joint was fixed. Ah got Jazz ta work his magic.” He tried a little push to see if he could get a verbal response without demanding one. “Ah can get him an’ Blue’ ta come over one cycle soon so ya can get ta know ‘em. That way ya can start ta get comfortable wi’ whichever one Ratch’ gets ta take a look at ya. How’s that sound?”

Skywarp didn’t say anything for a click then muttered “’K.”

Ironhide was pleased with the response which at least represented a step in the right direction.

“We’re here.” He keyed the door with his access code and led Skywarp into a much smaller room. The seekers wings twitched with sudden claustrophobia as Ironhide released him and turned to reach a box down from one of the storage shelves lining the walls. He keyed an access code into the panel in the lid, which slid aside, and gestured to Skywarp to check inside.

“Ah think there’s stuff in here belonging ta ya an’ Thundercracker. Can ya take a look?”

Skywarp knelt by the crate and reached for the contents. There were a few things he recognised; the geode filled with Earth Amathysts he had found and had been planning on giving to Starscream for his collection for a start. There was also a data pad with Thundercracker's name glyphs etched into the casing in a shaky hand, a couple of data slugs, the field first aid kits that Starscream insisted they all carry, and, wonder of wonders the pict file containing images of their trine, and of his creators. Skywarp breathed a long sigh when he drew some shards of twisted grey metal from the box. His captors had obviously just dumped everything from his subspace into storage and not considered sorting it. The metal was obviously once part of a living Cybertronian and he heard Ironhides engine rumble in consternation when he saw it. Skywarp knew it wasn’t much, and was pretty gruesome to most mechs, but the plating was the only physical reminder he and Thundercracker had of their offlined creators, and of Vos.

Ironhide reached out as if to take the shards from him, but Skywarp jumped back, hugging them to his cockpit. He could not loose these, he just couldn’t.

Ironhide eyed the metal unhappily. He had no idea whose it was, or were it had come from. Visions of it being a macabre trophy from Skywarp's first kill had leapt to mind. The young seeker looked like he wanted to hide the pieces away, but Ironhide knew that his subspace had been locked down when he had been captured. He decided to reserve judgement until he could get Skywarp to talk, then, if the pieces were something sinister he would remove them and see that they were disposed of correctly.

“Is everything there yours?” he asked instead. Skywarp shook his head.

“Some’s mine, some’s TC’s.” Ironhide nodded, mentally noting that it was the first time Skywarp had used a nickname for either of his trine in his audio range.

“Ok. D’ya want ta put it all back an’ ya can take th’ whole crate. When ya see Thundercracker ya can give him his stuff back.” He didn’t miss the hopeful, wistful expression the Skywarp gave him as he obediently put everything back in the crate. Ironhide decided to comm Prowl when they got back to their quarters to see if he thought a meeting could be arranged.

****************************************************************************

Red Alert was fritzing again, sensor horns sparking and voice becoming shrill. He was pacing in front of the Primes desk, listing all the ways in which the plan to take Skywarp, or any Decepticon, back to Earth, and back to the Nemesis could go disastrously wrong.

Optimus heard him out with calm patience. The paranoid security director brought up some good points, particularly about the ship being home territory for the Decepticons and that it would be easy for whoever the Autobots brought down to evade them and loose themselves in the ship where they could access the crafts systems.

Red Alert finally wound down and stared at the Prime, crackles of electricity sparkling around his helm, betraying his dangerously overwrought state. Optimus came around the desk and placed a gentle servo on the security directors shoulder, Matrix reaching and calming. Red Alert twitched, surface sensors overworking and firing randomly under his leaders touch.

“I agree with a lot of your points Red, I do…”

“But you are going to ignore them.” Red Alert sagged slightly.

“No. You have a good point that any Decepticon we take down to Earth will be a risk. And most mechs are likely to object to the security measures we will have to impose.” Red looked like he wanted to interrupt with a rant about how the former Decepticons needed watching, but Optimus raised his free servo calmingly. “That said, the seekers are already living under some stringent security protocols and we can detail a mech to watch whoever we take down all the time.”

“But why Skywarp?” Red Alert was confused. He knew Skywarp's reputation as not the brightest Decepticon in the army, and couldn’t see what use he would be.

“He made us aware of the issue. Honestly Red, did you ever give a thought to whether the Decepticons on this planet had any personal possessions? Or whether they might want the items we took from them when they were captured back?” Optimus’ field flared with sadness, disappointment and guilt. “I know I didn’t.”

The security director looked away from the earnest blue optics confronting him. If he was honest with himself he knew that he HAD given some thought to the possessions of their prisoners. The thoughts had been about seeing what intelligence could be gained rather than how the owners felt about being separated from the only items of value that they owned.

“We can’t expect to help the Decepticons re-integrate and re-build our society if we destroy the things that they have held onto throughout the war. Things which may well be part of a life before the fighting started.”

Red Alert ex-vented heavily, “Fine, but at least give some thought to the security measures I’ve recommended.”

“I will. We will take all possible measures to ensure everyone’s safety.” Optimus gave him another pat on the shoulder and Red Alert took it as dismissal.

***************************************************************************************

Ironhide and Skywarp had got half way back to their quarters after collecting Skywarps supplements from the medbay when Ironhide received a comm from Prowl requesting his attendance at a senior officers meeting in a jour. He huffed, which caused Skywarp to twitch, glancing sideways. 

“Ah’ve gotta go ta a meetin’ in a jour.” He huffed again, “Ah don’t know how long ah’m goin’ ta be so ah’ll make sure ah grab a cube fer ya before ah leave.”

Ironhide glanced at the seeker. Skywarp had a thoughtful expression on his face. While Ironhide was relieved to see any emotion other than fear, panic or distress, he felt it incumbent to warn the seeker that, if he was intending on creating havoc in their quarters, or attempting to escape, there would be repercussions.

“Ah’m not goin’ ta be impressed if mah quarters end up like a bombsite. If ya mess it up ya can clean it up!” He was careful to keep his voice and field light and amused, and was pleased to see Skywarp's expression shift to one of seraphic innocence rather than fear. He snorted, disbelievingly and gave the arm in his servo a small squeeze.

Skywarp looked like he was plotting all the way back, but Ironhide wasn’t too worried, when Jazz had secured his quarters he had ensured that anything that could be used as a weapon or to create anything dangerous had been removed.

Skywarp shifted the box in his arms when they reached Ironhide’s quarters, looking forward to putting it down. Ironhide punched his code into the doorpad (shielding it from Skywarp, much to the seekers disgust), and gently pushed the seeker inside. Skywarp’s wings itched with claustrophobia, despite the space. He was still suspicious of Ironhide’s motives in returning his personal items.

He moved towards his room as Ironhide started towards the other side of the room after locking the door. Once inside, he put the crate carefully in a corner. Relief and concern warred in his processor. Relief that he had his most precious items back, but concern that they would be used against him. A part of him wanted to keep everything securely in the crate, but the tactical part of his processor suggested it would be more sensible to spread things around. 

The piece of plating went under the berth padding, carefully tucked towards the middle. The first aid kit he set beside the door. If Ironhide did start getting free with his fists at least he would be able to patch himself up. The other items were secreted as unobtrusively as possible. The pict file went to the back of the highest shelf and was undetectable from the door although he could still see it from the other side of the room. The crate, with the items belonging to Thundercracker inside it, was hidden under the desk.

He had just placed everything when Ironhide rapped on the door. He tensed, waiting for the older mech to enter the room, but the door didn’t open. He walked silently towards the door, audios tuned to their highest gain, he could hear Ironhide moving around in the other room and the hum of the energon dispenser. He opened the door and slipped through.

Ironhide had had his passive sensors focussed on Skywarp’s door, so knew when the seeker stepped out into the main room. The black mech kept his distance as Ironhide placed a single energon cube on the table. This would be the first time he had left Skywarp in his quarters alone and Ironhide was wary of what would happen. He intended to try to head off any potential trouble before it started.

“Ya Ok?” Skywarp nodded in reply, but didn’t come closer. It was exasperating after the small progress they had made the previous cycle when Skywarp had allowed himself to be handled. Ironhide decided to ignore the clear distrust from the seeker and press on. “Ya cube’s on th’ table. Ah’m goin’ ta lock th’ door when ah leave. If ya decide ta try’n hack th’ lock it’ll activate th’ stasis generators. Ah’m not goin’ ta be happy if ya do.” serious talk finished Ironhide smiled reassuringly “Apart from that, try not ta wreck th’ place. If ya do, ah’ll make ya clear it up.”

Skywarp’s wings dipped slightly at Ironhide’s warning about the door. Ironhide was pleased to have correctly guessed what Skywarp had been thinking. Years of contact with Sideswipe and Bumblebee, both notorious for playing tricks on their fellow Autobots, had given him an insight.

“Ok -Ah’ll be back later.” Ironhide crossed towards the door, and Skywarp drew back slightly as he passed. “Feel free ta use th’ console.” He left, and the door slid shut behind him. Skywarp let out a long ex-vent and glanced around.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some pillows are delivered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* This chapter contains gentle but non-consensual restraint. If this makes you uncomfortable please consider your personal taste and headspace before reading.
> 
> As you can see Skywarp continues to dominate this story, despite my best efforts to write about other characters. 
> 
> Thank you to all the lovely people who continue to read and comment. Seeing new comments in my inbox makes me so happy! I hope you enjoy this slightly early update.

Ironhide entered the unlock code to his quarters with a little trepidation. He more than half expected to see Skywarp slumped by the door, hit with the stasis generators despite his warnings about not touching the lock.

The doorway was clear when the door opened, and he could see Skywarp sitting in front of the console. The seeker had twisted round to stare at him, expression wary. Ironhide smiled as he re-locked the door. The screen was playing some sort of animated cartoon, not one Ironhide recognised, and which had the sound apparently turned off.

Ironhide crossed to the energon dispenser, and drew two cubes of energon. Skywarps earlier cube was nowhere to be seen. Ironhide hoped that the seeker had drunk it. He knew that a large number of the ex-Decepticons tended to hoard energon when they could rather than keeping their energy levels in an acceptable range. It was behaviour which annoyed Ratchet no end because of the effects on the health of the mechs in question.

He put the cubes and the supplement packets on the table, before seating himself on the couch next to Skywarp. The seeker shuffled away slightly, attention on Ironhide. The older mech did not push the cube towards Skywarp, wanting to see if the seeker would come closer of his own accord.

Skywarp was flicking his optics towards the energon clearly assessing how quickly he could grab the cube before Ironhide could touch him.

“Prowl says Ratch’ was askin’ about gettin’ ya some more pillows. Jazz’ll be over soon ta drop them off. Ironhide was purposely looking at his own cube, but he didn’t miss the flinch from the mech beside him, or the way he recoiled.

“Somthin’ wrong?” Ironhide had decided not to tiptoe around the issue of Skywarp’s fear. It hadn’t worked so far. He turned to look at the seeker, noting the trembling wings and arms wrapped around his cockpit. Reaching out Ironhide rubbed a servo down Skywarp’s arm. “Somthin’ about Jazz comin’ over got ya twitchy? Ah can’t help if ya don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“S’nothin’.” Skywarp’s declaration was accompanied by the now familiar hunched shoulders and downcast optics. Ironhide scooted closer pulling the young mech into a loose hug.

“Ah don’t think it’s nothing’. Ah don’t think ya’d be this worked up over nothing’.” Ironhide gently ran a servo across the underside of one black wing, moving up to rub the hinges. Skywarp stiffened, but didn’t struggle to get away. “Come on kid, talk ta me.” 

Skywarp was silent, staring at his knees and still hunching his shoulders. Ironhide interpreted it as an attempt to make himself into a smaller target and deflect unwanted attention away from himself. Not surprising when his trine leader took every chance to bait mechs who were significantly larger and more dangerous than himself.

Ironhide felt a flare of protectiveness for the young mech. He doubted Skywarp had ever really had an older mech looking out for his best interests. Starscream had never seemed to be the type to concern himself with his subordinates welfare. He kept rubbing gently at Skywarp’s back.

“I heard things…” Skywarp’s voice was soft. Ironhide hummed encouragingly, but didn’t try to prompt further. “In the brig…” his vents hitched slightly. “Didn’t like it. Starscream said…” he trailed off with a short whimper.

“What did ya hear?” Ironhide prompted, but Skywarp just shook his helm with another sharp in-vent. “Ok, what did Starscream say?”

“Dangerous. Torturer.” there was another whimper, and Ironhide wrapped him more firmly in his arms. His engine rumbled soothingly. It hurt that he wasn’t able to refute what Starscream had said, but Ironhide knew that Jazz was a dangerous mech. He also knew that a lot of the intelligence gained by the Autobots had been obtained due to Jazz’s skills as an interrogator. He tried to remember whether any of the five seekers currently in custody had ever been captured during the war. He couldn’t remember any specific occasions, but it occurred to him that Starscream had been captured shortly after he had become Decepticon Air Commander. 

“He won’t hurt ya. Ah promise.” He could feel the way Skywarp trembled, and how conflicted his field was. How much was due to Jazz’s imminent arrival, and how much to their own closeness Ironhide was not entirely sure. Skywarp was not pulling away so he kept the seeker cuddled close.

Eventually Skywarp started to shift, and Ironhide released him. The black seeker sat up, but didn’t shuffle away. Ironhide gently squeezed his shoulder and reached for the unopened energon cube which he handed to Skywarp. Skywarp obediently took the cube and reached for the new supplement packet. He gave it a dubious look, before opening it and adding a scoop to the cube. He swirled it around his chemoceptors, tasting the sweetness of the iron and the sharper flavours of magnesium and nickel. 

Ironhide kept his engine rumbling gently while Skywarp drank, watching the seeker relaxing slightly. He could tell that Skywarp was still hyperaware of where he was by the way his wings twitched whenever Ironhide moved, but the constant and frantic fear from a few cycles previously had calmed. The cartoon had finished and Ironhide sent a brief comm to the console to power down.

The door chimed, and Skywarp bolted from his seat. He would have headed for his room, had Ironhide not caught him by the arm. It pulled the seeker up short and Skywarp let out an undignified squeak.

“Sit down.” Ironhide pushed the flier back towards the couch and moved past him to unlock the door. “An’ stay there!” he tossed over his shoulder. Ironhide punched the unlock code into the keypad and the door slid open. Jazz stood outside, giving Ironhide a wide, relaxed smile.

“Hey mech! I got th’ pillows Prowl said y’needed.” Ironhide stood aside, allowing the saboteur into the room. Skywarp had stood up while Ironhide’s back was turned, and had angled himself so the couch was between him an Jazz.

Ironhide frowned at the seeker and rumbled his engine warningly. Skywarp flinched back slightly, but defiantly remained standing. Jazz smiled in a friendly manner at Skywarp, whose wings twitched nervously. 

“Hi Skywarp.” The young seeker backed off a step as Jazz came forward. Ironhide huffed in irritation and strode around the couch, catching Skywarp by the arm. He was propelled towards the couch in one swift movement and sat down. Ironhide pressed him there with a firm servo on his shoulder, then seated himself beside the younger mech. Jazz prudently sat on one of the chairs.

“I gotta’ selection o’ pillows.” Jazz started removing them from his subspace and placing them on the couch next to its occupants. There was a selection of shapes, including a couple of wide flat ones. Skywarp kept eying Jazz nervously and barely spared the growing pile a glance.

“Thanks Jazz, ah appreciate ya bringin’ these over.” Ironhide gave Skywarp’s closest wing a small squeeze. The younger mech glanced at him, and Ironhide jerked his chin imperceptibly in Jazz’s direction, hoping to encourage him to thank the other Autobot.

Skywarp glanced back at Jazz, then dropped his optics to his knees.

“We’re gonna’ hafta’ work on ya manners kid.” Ironhide’s voice was stern. “Ya wanna’ thank Jazz fer comin’ over ta bring ya these?”

Skywarp didn’t look up , but mumbled something faintly, still staring down. Ironhide looked like he was about to push for a more audible response, but Jazz shook his helm.

“Y’welcome.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Ratch‘ also said y‘need t‘ think about magnet therapy.” Skywarp tensed noticeably and Ironhide carefully wrapped an arm around his waist. “I can show y’how it works if y’like.”

Ironhide prevented Skywarp from scrambling backwards with a faint tightening of his grip, he moved his servo up to the seekers wing hinges, rubbing the plating gently, and moved his free servo across Skywarp’s body, effectively trapping him against the couch.

“Ya can demonstrate on mah servo if ya want.” He stretched it towards Jazz, holding it palm up , hovering above Skywarp’s knees. Ironhide could feel Skywarp pressing back against him as Jazz moved forward to gently take his servo.

Jazz gently cupped the back of Ironhide’s servo in his own, not squeezing or gripping, merely allowing it to rest gently on top of his own. His other servo gently moved from the tips of Ironhide’s digits, across the palm, down the wrist joint. Ironhide twitched slightly at the sensation.

“Tickles!”

“Sorry. I can dial it down if y‘want.”

“It’s alright.” Ironhide gently pet the plating on Skywarp’s back “D’ya want to feel whats happening kid? If ya look ya can see th’ platin’ on mah hand lifting up slightly.” Skywarp focussed his optics on the minute movement of Ironhides plating, but made no move to reach out and touch. 

“I’ve only got th’ magnets in th’ first joints of my digits an’ my palm.” Jazz commented, continuing to skim said digits across Ironhide’s plating. Both mechs could feel the shift in Skywarp’s field, from fear to wary curiosity. Jazz made no move to touch the younger mech and Skywarp eventually extended a tentative servo, running it lightly across Ironhide’s wrist and palm, feeling the gentle movement of the plating. Jazz dialled the strength of the magnets up, and moved his own servo closer, allowing the magnetic field to gently wash over the jets plating. Skywarp didn’t pull away, so Jazz moved closer, allowing their plating to brush, and Skywarp to feel the magnets across his own digits.

Jazz sat back, a small smile playing around his mouth plates. Skywarp was flexing his digits experimentally, and was unconsciously leaning into Ironhide’s frame. Jazz chalked up a successful interaction with the young seeker. Ironhide also looked pleased, the whole visit had gone extremely well, certainly better than Prowls earlier calculations most of which had predicted a negative outcome.

“Are y’coming to see Thundercracker tomorrow?” Skywarp perked up at Jazz’s comment, helm turning to fix an intense gaze on Ironhide. His field was full of hope and excitement, obliterating the lingering fear. Ironhide gave his plating a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, Prowl an’ I agreed it earlier.” Skywarp’s engine gave an excited little rev, and Ironhide chuckled. “We’ll be over early.” he gave the now wriggling seeker another quick squeeze. “After we’ve had our energon an’ a trip through th’ ‘racks.”

Skywarp’s engine gave another little rev.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is (another) revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the first part of this chapter SHOULD have been posted as the end of last chapter. 
> 
> Clearly I cannot brain. I have the dumb.
> 
> There are a few questions thrown up by this one, no answers of course, but plenty of questions! 
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who reads, comments and leaves kudos. It makes me so happy to see people enjoying this monster!

It had been seven cycles since Starscream had been bought to the medbay. It had taken all that time to get the seeker to a state where Ratchet could start working on the damage to his sensor net. His spark was still too weak to obtain any reliable data from a scan, but at least now Ratchet could open the seekers chest plates without the risk of causing major system failures.

First Aid had wiped all the grime from the seekers white plating two cycles ago. Ratchet hoped it would help to prevent more grit and dirt reaching delicate circuitry. Now Starscream's frame gleamed dully under the harsh medbay lights.

The medic carefully prised Starscream's chest plates open, wincing at the scraping noise of dry metal on metal. Starscream's joint lubrication system was functioning at around forty percent, but the lubricant was only really reaching the major joints. Hinges and port covers were not being fed properly. Ratchet strongly suspected that the corroded fine energon lines were causing the issue. He reached for some artificial silicone lubricant and dabbed it gently around the hinges.

Starscream's spark flickered in its chamber. It was a surprising golden yellow colour. Ratchet had not expected that because the other five seekers all had sparks in shades of blue and purple. The flicker was not as strong, or as regular as a healthy spark, and Ratchet kept a wary optic on it as he begin searching for the sensors in the seekers torso. 

The long confinement had caused minor and major sensors to shut down from disuse. When Starscream had been removed from his prison the rush of data to the dormant sensors had caused the majority to burn out. Ratchet would have to replace the damaged ones, and any of the fine wiring which had been scorched by the overloading sensors.

Ratchet had opted to start with the seekers torso because the damage to his cockpit had necessitated the removal of all the kibble, and the glass. He also wanted to work on the delicate sensors around the spark chamber while he was still fresh.

Ratchet began the repetitive task of testing and removing every single damaged sensor. Mapping their position and connectors for Starscream's growing medical file. The web of sensors seemed unusually dense for the average Cybertronian, and Ratchet made a mental note to compare Starscream's sensor map with the partial ones he had taken from the other seekers.

Only five percent of the sensors which Ratchet had tested had returned any result, and the pile of the tiny pieces of twisted metal was spilling from the tray that he had placed them on. Ratchet then had to fit the new sensors (and had almost emptied the medbay stock in the process) and strip out the damaged wiring.

The medic had been working for jours by the time the delicate task was finished. Ratchet glanced at the yellow spark again as an anomaly caught his optic. He was tempted to dismiss it as a optical glitch caused by tiredness, when he saw it again. A dark stain, roughly circular, on the surface of the seekers spark. They were not common, but Ratchet had seen similar marks before, it was unmistakably a fissioning scar.

Starscream had clearly had a sparkling whose spark had been detached from his own early by a medic. If the sparkling had been framed before the war the scar would be much less prominent, but this suggested that the seeker had undergone the procedure in the past hundred vorns.

Ratchet doubted that an immature spark would have been able to survive the splitting, and the subsequent medical procedure. It added more credibility to the suggestion that Starscream was older than his trine mates.

There was also the worry about what had happened to the sparkling. Had it been framed as an adult? Had it survived? Was it still out there? Privately Ratchet pondered over the biggest question of all, who was the sire of Starscream's sparkling?

None of the other seekers were young enough to be the sparkling. The Stunticons had been produced by Vector Sigma and there were no grounder mechs among the ex-Decepticons who were young enough. The war had done a good job of ensuring that only the best fighters from each side had survived.

Ratchet suspected that the sparkling had deactivated. If he had been forced to hazard a guess he would also have suggested that Megatron had been the sire. Yet another piece of the puzzle which could only be answered if, and when, Starscream woke up.

*******************************************************************

The teams clearing the ground in the uninhabited sectors of Cyberton had reached one of the areas formerly held by the Decepticons. Specialist teams had been sent in to check for any nasty hidden surprises. Shockwave had been nothing if not creative, four million Earth years with no contact from Megatron, and having to fend off running raids from the Autobots left on Cybertron had resulted in the purple scientist devising some unpleasant traps. A number of mechs had received dangerous injuries when one of these had been activated by an unwary clean-up crew.

Sunstreaker, as part of his punishment, had been detailed to assist Hound and Trailbreaker. The two scouts would use their specialised mods to detect, and contain anything dangerous, and Sunstreaker would clear any debris and set a small detonator to ensure it was destroyed. The three mechs would then retire to a safe area and set the detonator off.

The work was dirty and exhausting. Sunstreaker's finish was ruined, and he was simmering with barely repressed rage. He could feel his twin in his spark, but the distance between them was too great to allow them to do more than send emotions, not talk. Sunstreaker knew it could be worse, they were only being separated for ten cycles. The Autobot command had quickly realised after the twins had joined the cause that separation, or the threat of separation, was the quickest way to obtain compliance from the unruly pair.

Hound and Trailbreaker were used to Sunstreaker's moods and didn’t trouble the warrior with conversation. The two were clearly conversing over their comms, but even this made Sunstreaker angrier. He knew it was irrational, but he could not help himself. He also knew that at the end of the shift he would have to go back to his empty quarters alone. He growled softly to himself as they moved to the next area.

Suddenly Hound stopped dead. Trailbreaker and Sunstreaker froze as well, long practice and old training kicking in. Hound turned, looking at a collapsed wall.

“Picking something up?” asked Trailbreaker quietly.

“Yeah. There is a big hollow space just past and under that wall. I think it’s some sort of room.” Hound rubbed his helm tiredly. “I think we need to check it out before we move to the next area.”

“Ok. I’ll let control know.” Trailbreaker accessed his comm and fired off a message, tagging it with their location.

Meanwhile Sunstreaker had moved towards the broken wall. It looked like a corridor which had caved in and the golden mech suspected that there would be a staircase or a lift shaft linking the space that Hound could sense to the surface. He started carefully moving the rubble, his own sensors alert for any likelihood of the floor caving in under his weight. Hound and Trailbreaker joined him, carefully shifting aside the debris.

Pulling at a large metal spar Sunstreaker watched the dust and dirt around it cascade down a large hole, smaller chunks of rubble echoing as they bounced off the metal walls of the lift shaft. Trailbreaker bounced an echo-location ping down the shaft.

“Only looks like it goes down one level. Either of you got a grapple?”

Sunstreaker mutely handed him a grappling gun from his subspace. Trailbreaker fired the grapple into the most stable area of debris and hauled back on it, testing the hold. It shifted slightly then the claws of the grapple bit into the rubble. Another yank and the line held firm.

“I’ll go down first.” Sunstreaker offered. He knew he was around the same weight as Trailbreaker, but his armour was denser and he would be less likely to be injured if the cable of the grapple failed. Trailbreaker nodded, handing him the cable. Sunstreaker cautiously swung his legs over the side of the hole, and began lowering himself down.

The cable held firm, and Sunstreaker dropped the short distance between the end of the cable and the ground.

::I’m down.:: He studied the area, spotting the lift doors, buckled, but mostly closed. ::I’ve found the doors, I’ll try to get them open.::

The cable twitched, Sunstreaker glanced up to see Trailbreaker beginning his descent. He crossed to the doors, inspecting them carefully. One was overlapping the other slightly at the top. The golden mech worked his digits into the gap and began pulling, trying to force them apart.

A heavy thump behind him and second pair of servos joined Sunstreaker's as Trailbreaker added his strength. Hound joined them shortly afterwards and, eventually, the buckled doors began to move. A small sliver of darkness could be seen between the panels, a sliver which grew bigger as the three mechs exerted their power.

Finally the space was big enough to allow Trailbreaker to squeeze through and the three mechs slipped into the darkness beyond.

**********************************************

Prowl marched Thundercracker to the medbay. The blue mech’s servo’s were firmly pinned behind his back, and his engine was growling in irritation. Prowl had cuffed the young mech after Thundercracker had taken a swipe at him. The seeker was reluctant to allow any Autobot medic to poke at him again, and was making his displeasure clear.

“You are being ridiculous!” Prowl growled in exasperation as Thundercracker dug his peds in for the tenth time since they had left their quarters. “It is just a trip to the medbay.” The seeker stubbornly refused to reply, digging his peds in again.

Prowl simply huffed, and pushed the younger mech forward again. It was the first time that Thundercracker had left his quarters in twelve cycles and, while Prowl had calculated the likelihood that the seeker would fight as high, he hadn’t realised, on a personal level, just how aggravating it would be.

It had been a long time since Prowl had been forced to deal with a mech deliberately attempting to get under his plating. The last time had been when Bluestreak had been an awkward mechling, rebelling against authority in general, and Prowl in particular. For the most part Prowl’s rank had put him out of reach of anyone who might have aspirations of causing him a processor crash.

Thundercracker dug his peds in yet again, and Prowl shoved him forward, perhaps a little harder than necessary. Thundercracker stumbled slightly and hissed in irritation. Prowl gritted his denta, catching the flier before he could fall.

They were nearly at the medbay. Prowl could see the door and Thundercracker jerked to a halt again. The tactician briefly considered comming Ratchet for assistance, but decided against it. Thundercracker's field was thick with disgust, anger and a tiny touch of fear. Prowl was used to the younger mech broadcasting a combination of highly negative emotions, and he tugged on the blue arm, getting the seeker moving again.

Thundercracker’s fear was rising as they approached the medbay and he was dragging his peds even more. Prowl had explained that Ratchet had requested (or rather ordered) them to the medbay for Thundercracker’s check up. A little part of Prowl, the part not currently irritated by the seekers stubbornness, sympathised. Ratchet could be overwhelming.

Finally they reached the door to the medbay. Thundercracker, predictably, ground to a stop again, trying to backpedal. Prowl was a solid mass behind him, pushing the seeker onwards. 

Ratchet was waiting in the medbay proper, scowling in irritation. Checking his chronometer Prowl realised that Thundercracker’s stalling had made them late. Many years of ducking out of medical appointments, or deliberately arriving late so Ratchet was forced to reschedule had left the medic with very little tolerance for Prowl not arriving in the medbay on time. 

Thundercracker shied back, fear dominating his field, as Ratchet stomped forward to meet them. Prowl’s firm grip on his arm prevented him from going anywhere. When Ratchet reached the two mechs the seeker stilled, field withdrawing closer to his plating. Ratchet ignored him for the moment, focussing on Prowl.

“While I’m working on Thundercracker I want First-Aid to take a look at you.” the medic announced. Prowl frowned, but dipped his helm in acquiescence. He knew the Autobot medical team worried about his tendency to overwork and the strain it put on his processor and frame.

Ratchet led them to a med berth, and Prowl helped Thundercracker to sit on it. The seeker glared at his captors, shuffling away from them. Ratchet activated the privacy shield, hiding them from view.

“Are you going to behave and allow Prowl to uncuff you?” Uncertainty cut through the fear and contempt in the seekers field. He held still as Prowl reached for the cuffs, automatically rubbing his servos when they had been freed. Ratchet gently reached for each wrist in turn, checking for damage from the cuffs, but found none. Thundercracker allowed it, but pulled his servos back out of reach when Ratchet released them.

“Do you want me to wait outside Ratchet?” enquired Prowl, “I’ll can remain within comm range if you need me.” Unspoken was the warning to the blue seeker that, if he became unruly, Prowl would not hesitate to activate the stasis generators. Thundercracker just glared at him.

“There’s a chair near the door if you want it when ‘Aid is finished with you.” Ratchet waved a servo in the vague direction he meant. “It’s probably easier if you are not under my peds. It is just a simple check-up.” The black and white mech nodded, and slipped through the privacy field. Ratchet watched his blurred form move away, before glancing back at the mech on the berth. 

Thundercracker was watching him with a disdainful expression which failed to mask the fear broadcast by his field. Ratchet was curious about that. Skywarp was far more adept at holding his field close. Thundercracker's field was faint, but noticeable at short range. The way the seekers plating was clamped tight Ratchet would have expected his field to be detectable only on contact. The medic suspected that some of Thundercracker's programming had either not been installed, or had glitched.

“Are you going to let me sync up again?” Ratchet extended his servo as he spoke, wanting to see if Thundercracker would co-operate. The seeker ex-vented, staring at the outstretched servo. “Come on, we’ve done this before!”

Thundercracker kept his servos tucked tightly to his cockpit. Watching Ratchet warily, he shuffled backwards. The medic stepped closer, reaching towards him, and the blue mech flinched back.

“Ok.” Ratchet backed off, giving the seeker some room. Thundercracker kept his servos well out of reach, still watching Ratchet carefully. The red and white mech reached carefully into his subspace for the ever present pack of rust sticks. “If you let me sync up and run a scan you can have a couple of rust sticks.” He stepped closer, reaching out a servo once more.

Thundercracker just stared at the medic. He wasn’t about to allow Ratchet to sync up without a fight. The sync the previous cycle had been an error caused by his low fuel levels. Ratchet would have to get Prowl involved and the stasis generators activated if he wanted his scans.

“OK, you want something more than treats for your co-operation? Fine. You want to see your trine leader?” Thundercracker's field sharpened, hope flooding it. His expression was similarly hopeful. Ratchet stepped closer, and laid a servo gently on Thundercracker's upper arm. “I’ll let you see him if you behave.”

Thundercracker slowly extended his servo. The lure of seeing his missing trine mate swaying him, against his better judgement. Ratchet reached for it with equal slowness, not wanting to spook the silent seeker. His digits wrapped around the slender forearm and he coaxed the port cover open gently. The situation had been the same for all the seekers, none had wanted to allow him to have access to their systems. Not surprising, given Skywarp’s revelation that they were used to painful medical scans.

Thundercracker flinched when Ratchet connected his data cable, pulling his servo back. Ratchet arrested the movement with a firm grip on the younger mechs arm. The sync tingled, and Ratchet rumbled his engine soothingly as Thundercracker’s field spiked with fear again.

“It’s ok, It won’t hurt.” Ratchet murmured, stroking the blue arm as the scan started. The seeker stiffened, wings tensing even further. The scan showed that his spark rate and core temperature had increased, a reaction to his unease. Ratchet filed away the observation that Thundercracker seemed to have a worse reaction to medical scans than any of the other four seekers.

The scan finished, and Ratchet gently disconnected the data cable. Thundercracker’s surprise was obvious. Ratchet suspected that he had been a little too out of it to really remember the previous scan. The medic handed the seeker the promised rust stick. Thundercracker took it automatically, looking at it in bewilderment.

“Eat that.” Ratchet patted his shoulder and Thundercracker tentatively nibbled the treat, rolling it across his chemorecepters. “You are not in bad shape, especially considering your little hunger strike. Which was stupid by the way.” Thundercracker scowled, but said nothing. “Don’t give me that! It was stupid and you know it.” Ratchet took a deep vent. “You need to be taking supplements with every cube, you need proper recharge and defrag time, not whatever you are doing now, and you need to be moving about more because your joints are starting to seize up.”

The younger mechs scowl deepened, he had noticed the catch in his joints, and the slight ache that the walk to the medbay had bought. He knew he had moved far less that he normally would since he had been taken from the brig. Some cycles he had just stayed on his berth, not moving at all. He also knew that he was not using the wash racks as much as he would normally do, leading to a build-up of dirt in the joints.

“I’ll get some silicone lubricant for you, as well. It will help with the catching and the ache. Prowl will have to help you apply it.” Ratchet hoped that this would encourage more social touch for the young seeker. Thundercracker was still pulling a face. “Don’t look like that. It is your own fault.”

Ratchet dropped the privacy field, holding out his servo to assist the blue seeker from the berth. Thundercracker ignored him, sliding from the berth with a fraction less grace that normal. When he stood Ratchet could see where cables had tightened from disuse, subtly affecting his stance.

Thundercracker was watching the medic expectantly as Prowl crossed the medbay towards them and placed a servo on Thundercracker's arm. Thundercracker tried to jerk away, but Prowl held on.

“Is he good to come back to our quarters?”

“I’ve promised that he can see Starscream before he leaves.” Prowl frowned at the medics words, but didn’t make any comment other than a brief nod.

“Very well.”

Ratchet led them to the secure medbay wing, entering the lock code and opening the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thundercracker gets to see his trine mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 chapters in and Thundercracker gets to see Starscream!
> 
> I know it isn't the whole trine back together (and awake, and fixed) but we are getting there!

The secure medbay was quiet except for the hum of the equipment hooked into Starscream’s systems. Ratchet halted Prowl and Thundercracker just inside the door, reaching a servo out to make contact with Thundercracker’s arm once again.

“I need to warn you, he is not in good shape. He is much better than he was, but he has a long way to go.” Thundercracker nodded, all his attention on the pale shape lying on the largest med berth. Ratchet stood aside and Prowl loosed his hold on the blue seeker who nearly stumbled towards his trine leader.

Thundercracker stood, looking down at Starscream’s still form, mentally cataloguing all the injuries he could see, the damaged optics, the damaged wings and the fresh wealds. Ratchet reached a gentle servo to one of the blue wings, stroking the lower edge. Thundercracker clicked thoughtfully, ignoring the touch and stretching his own servo out until it hovered above one of the white wings.

“You can touch him, just don’t jostle anything.” Thundercracker lowered his servo to his trine leaders wing. He trembled very slightly, and Prowl joined them, looking down at the stasis locked seeker lying on the berth. 

Thundercracker was making soft clicks and chirps, servo stroking across the pale metal. Ratchet caught Prowl’s optic behind the younger mech’s back.

::I think he’s missing some language programming. I want ‘Jack to take a look sometime.::

::You might have to wait for a while, he’s not really settling yet.::

::I don’t think it’s urgent. He’s clearly capable of communicating, it will just make it easier for him.::

Thundercracker’s questing servo had found the ragged hole in Starscream’s wing and the chirping, and Thundercracker’s field, had become more distressed. Ratchet began rubbing soothing circles on the young mech’s own wing.

“It looks worse than it is. I promise. I‘m going to patch the holes when I‘ve replaced the sensors in his wings.” The blue seeker whipped his head round to stare at Ratchet in shock. His vocaliser gave a little crackle of static, but cut out before any words were formed. “Most his sensors blew out, probably when we rescued him. He’d had no social touch for too long and it overloaded his system.” Ratchet felt compelled to try and explain the issue, although he was not entirely sure the young seeker fully understood. “He’ll be ok.”

Thundercracker turned back to his trine mate in silence, servo moving up to caress the dark faceplate. His field still roiled with unease and distress. Ratchet and Prowl allowed him to pet Starscream’s frame and both Autobots noted the continued distressed vocalisations and field. Prowl waited patiently, allowing the seeker as much time as possible, but he was aware that they needed to return to their quarters relatively soon. The Prime had requested that he call a meeting to discuss the proposed trip back to Earth.

“Come on, we need to be going.” Prowl gently tugged Thundercracker’s arm, pulling him away from the med berth. Thundercracker made a distressed sound , not moving. Prowl pulled a bit harder. “Come on Thundercracker. We are leaving.” The noise got louder, and was overlaid with a growl of anger, Thundercracker’s engine began whining unhappily. Prowl pulled the seeker around to face him. “Do I need to cuff you again?” The seeker gave a small headshake and Prowl tugged his arm again.

Prowl marched the young mech out of the room, followed by Ratchet who locked the secure wing behind him. Thundercracker’s wings were hiked up, and his engine continued to whine. The Autobot turned to Thundercracker, gripping his shoulders and giving the seeker a little shake. Thundercracker summoned up a scowl, although his field clearly showed how distressed he was.

“Before you go Prowl, I need to give you some silicone lubricant for Thundercracker’s joints.” The medic opened a cupboard, removing a small can which he offered to Prowl, who tucked it into his subspace. Ratchet laid a friendly servo on Thundercracker’s wing, stroking it gently. “And I expect you to take the supplements I’ve given you.”

“Thank you Ratchet.” Prowl murmured when Thundercracker made no sound. He turned back to the seeker. “Now, do I need to cuff you for the walk back? Or are you going to behave?”

Thundercracker just scowled in response, crossing his servos over his cockpit, and staring off to the side. 

“I’ll take that to mean you will behave then. Come on.” He tugged Thundercracker’s arm, leading the seeker from the medbay.

***********************************************************

When Prowl and Jazz returned from their meeting Thundercracker was lying on his berth, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was replaying the memories of his time with Starscream in the medbay, and the memories of the last time he saw Skywarp. He was worried about his trine, he was the calm, rational one, they needed him to provide the balance between Skywarp’s giddy irrepressibility, and Starscream’s mercurial temperament.

He heard the two Autobot officers enter the quarters, conversing quietly. Out of habit he tuned in on their conversation, turning up the gain on his audials. So far neither Autobot had made their move, but Thundercracker knew it wouldn’t be long. He knew what grounders were like, and long experience with Megatron had shown him what they enjoyed.

He suppressed the memory of what Megatron had expected of him, and what he had done to protect his trine mates from the warlords unkind attentions. He was determined not to give the Autobots the pleasure of seeing him appear to be frightened, or hurting, the two things Megatron had enjoyed. He was confident of his ability to control his reactions, but not his damaged field. Megatron, or rather Shockwave acting on Megatron’s orders, had ensured that.

Prowl appeared at the door of Thundercracker’s room with a cube of energon. Thundercracker could see that the cube was open, and the energon inside it seemed darker than usual, probably already full of supplements. He wanted to refuse, just on principle, but once again the memory of how unpleasant the alternative was gave him some pause.

“Here is your cube. I’ve added the supplements already.” The black and white mech crossed to the berth and held the cube out to the seeker. Thundercracker sat up, but didn’t make any move to take the energon. Prowl silently pushed the cube closer, and Thundercracker slowly extended his own servo to take it.

“I want you to come into the main room when you have finished your cube.” Prowl’s door wings, expression and field were all smooth and controlled, giving no hint of what the Praxian wanted. Thundercracker was instantly suspicious, and instantly determined not to do what Prowl had asked.

Prowl left the room and Thundercracker stared at the cube in his servo. His tank pinged him with a helpful reminder that he needed to refuel. He sipped at the cube, testing the purity of the fuel. He could not detect anything other than ordinary midgrade and the trace chemicals added by Prowl. He continued to sip the cube slowly, trying to make it last and ignoring the bitterness.

Prowl gave the younger mech a jour before returning to Thundercracker’s room. The seeker was still sitting up on the berth and gave the Autobot a defiant look.

“Could you come through to the main room please.” Prowl was still calm and controlled and Thundercracker gave in to the urge just to pout, crossing his arms over his front and scowling. One of Prowl’s door wings twitched, but the Praxian’s expression did not change. “Very well, I wanted to discuss allowing Skywarp to visit you tomorrow, but I can see you are not interested. I will let Ironhide know.” Prowl turned to leave, pretending not to have noticed the way the seekers wings had flared up and out in shock. He left the room, setting a short countdown.

Thundercracker appeared in the doorframe before the countdown had finished, and Prowl allowed a tinge of smugness to enter his field. Jazz, who was seated on the couch, gave Prowl a quick grin.

Thundercracker hovered uncertainly at the entrance to the room, not trusting the unfamiliar environment or the two Autobots watching him. Jazz was smiling in a manner clearly calculated to appear reassuring and Prowl was, as usual, blank and controlled. Thundercracker’s wings twitched nervously.

“Come and sit down.” Prowl indicated the space on the couch beside Jazz, who shifted over to make more room. Defiantly Thundercracker crossed to a different chair, which placed the low table in between him and the Autobots, and sat down. Neither Autobot so much as twitched, merely adjusting their positions to allow them to face him.

“Ironhide has agreed to bring Skywarp here tomorrow so the two of you can spend some time together.” Prowl advised, getting straight to the point. “However there are a couple of things that I need you to do.” He paused, waiting to see if the seeker would make any comment, but Thundercracker just stared at him, expression carefully neutral. Prowl hummed gently before continuing, “Ratchet has mentioned that your major joints need lubricating, and that they need cleaning. Ratchet also warned me that the lubrication isn’t something you can do on your own, so I am going to have to assist you. I want us to do that now.”

Thundercracker’s expression flickered from studied indifference to something nervous and uneasy. He forced the mask back in place, but knew his field would reflect his true feelings. Prowl appeared to be waiting for something from him. Thundercracker simply tilted his head quizzically.

“I need you to start responding verbally please Thundercracker.” said Prowl sternly, “I have to be sure you understand what I’m saying. If I can‘t get a verbal response I can‘t gauge that I‘m getting through to you.” Prowl took a calm in-vent, “Do you want to see Skywarp tomorrow?”

Thundercracker had a brief struggle with himself. On the one servo he was reluctant to give the Autobots any ammunition to figure out how close their trine bond was, on the other they already knew that he wanted to see his trine mate. Thundercracker was reluctant to admit how desperate he was to see Skywarp and to check that he was alright, even to himself. Vorns of being a highly ranked officer within a faction whose third in command was a functioning telepath had left him cautious about even thinking about sensitive topics. He was starting to feel a distinct sense of hopelessness about his situation.

“Thundercracker.” Prowl recalled his wandering attention, “Do you want to see Skywarp tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Thundercracker’s voice was more static than word and he re-set his vocaliser to clear it.

“Ok, I’ll let Ironhide know. Are you going to come to the wash racks with me now and we can start working on your joints?”

The seekers wings flared. This was what he had been anticipating since their surrender. An Autobot deciding to take advantage of having a defenceless seeker in their power. His field flared in disgust and his lip plates curled into a grimace of distaste.

Prowl and Jazz glanced at each other, processors working overtime. Thundercracker’s expression, as well as the sudden flare of his field suggested some very bad associations, although neither was quite sure if it was the medical aspect, or being in the wash racks with another mech.

Ironhide had mentioned Skywarp’s aversion to being in the wash racks with him. The weapons specialist had thought that the young seekers had probably been warned that they would be hurt, and probably abused if they were captured. Kup had agreed, Thrust had started shrieking whenever the old Autobot had come near him. Kup thought that the young mech was doing it as a defensive measure to keep the Autobot away from him. The sergeant had resorted to keeping his distance, and occasionally giving the white seeker treats. His patience thus far had been rewarded by a slight decrease in the amount and volume of the noise, but not much else. 

Thundercracker was glancing between Prowl and Jazz, expression wary. Jazz pinged Prowl’s comm with a query.

::Want me to take myself off? I’ve got to deliver the pillows to ‘Hide.::

::It might be for the best. I’m going to try to get him talking to me. He might be more amenable without an audience.::

“I’ve gotta head out Prowler.” Jazz said aloud for Thundercracker’s benefit. “’Hide asked fer some more pillows an’ I said I’d take some over t’night.” He stood as he spoke, smiling at both mechs, “I’ll see y’ both next cycle.” Jazz crossed to the door as he spoke, entering the unlock code. It closed automatically behind him, and the lock beeped, signifying that he had re-locked it from the other side.

Prowl turned his attention back to Thundercracker who was watching him carefully. The young mech had not answered his question and Prowl was hoping to use it to open a conversation.

“You seem worried about coming into the wash racks with me. Are we going to be able to work on your joints now?”

Thundercracker was tense, his wings held stiffly and field pulled back closer to his plating. He had schooled his expression to one of carefully studied neutrality. Prowl kept his distance, waiting for Thundercracker to signify that he was happy to continue. The seeker said nothing.

“We can talk about what we are going to do first if that makes it easier?”

Thundercracker’s lip curled, but he didn‘t say anything. Prowl’s door wings twitched in irritation.

“Thundercracker, I need you to answer please.” 

“Fine!” The retort came out clearer than the previous one and Prowl concluded that monosyllables were going to be the best that he could hope for, for the time being. It was at least an improvement on silence.

“Very well. Ratchet has sent me some instructions for how to ensure that your joints are properly cleaned and lubricated. Do you want to read them?” Prowl indicated a data pad on the table. Thundercracker shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the data pad. Prowl made no move to stop him as he reached for it.

The young mech activated the pad. He was slightly worried at what Ratchet would be instructing him to do. The text on the pad was closely written, and full of medical glyphs. Thundercracker understood around one in every five. He could probably make out more, but he had to keep paging through the pad at a normal looking speed. He would not show weakness, even one that small, to his captors.

He ground to a halt when he caught his own designation towards the end of the pad. Ratchet had added a message, explaining how to clean his joints, and how the lubricant would need to be applied using simple and clear glyphs. Thundercracker almost took a sharp in-vent. Did Ratchet know, or suspect, that he would have issues reading? Or was this something he did for all his patients?

The instructions were pretty simple. Ratchet wanted him to clean his major joints, plus the small ones in his digits, and then work the lubricant into the joint. The file ended with some simple exercises that Ratchet wanted him to perform to rotate the joints and spread the lubricant.

Thundercracker glanced back at Prowl, who had remained sitting quite calmly, watching him.

“Shall we decide how we proceed?” Prowl’s voice, field and door wings were all calm. The tactician was deliberately being as unthreatening as possible. Thundercracker’s lip plates curled again in a grimace of displeasure but he didn‘t say anything. Prowl opted to ignore the lack of verbal response in favour of explaining what he intended to do.

“Ratchet says your wing hinges, shoulders, wrists, hips, elbows, knees and ankles need lubrication. You should be able to do your arms and your legs yourself, but your wings, shoulders and servos will need assistance. Now I want to help you with that. Are you happy with that?”

“Yes.” Thundercracker reigned his field, he wanted to see Skywarp and he refused to allow Prowl to read his extreme unease as refusal to co-operate. He took a deep in-vent, forcing calm through his systems with the ease of long practice.

Prowl was not at all convinced that Thundercracker was happy with the situation. Even without the forcibly calm field and plating clenched tight the tense and flared wings told of the young mech’s unhappiness. A part of Prowl just wanted to hold Thundercracker and pet his wings until he calmed, but he knew that it would be counterproductive. Instead he stood and crossed to the wash rack door, pressing the opening controls.

“Do you want to do this now?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thundercracker gets to see Skywarp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the bit a lot of people have been waiting for, myself included. Beware, this one has lots of fluff and feels!
> 
> This week has seemed very short to me, it feels like yesterday that I posted the last chapter.

When they had finished in the wash racks Thundercracker retreated to his room and stood staring out of the window. Prowl had been gentle and careful, limiting his touches to what had been strictly necessary. Thundercracker was loath to admit it, but the treatment of his joints had made him much more comfortable, and he had not been subject to the gropes and touches he was used to when using the wash racks with a grounder.

He was confused. The Autobots had not been behaving in the way he had been led to expect. He had expected them to act like Megatron, to take every chance to grab at his wings and hips and to beat him if he didn’t comply. Instead they had provided him with fuel, a berth and kept their servos to themselves. Instead of hurting him when he had refused to refuel they had treated him remarkably gently, forcible refuelling notwithstanding.

Thundercracker’s anger at the Autobots had not cooled, but he would continue to hold himself in check for the time being. He wanted to keep his trine safe after all.

*******************************************************

Trailbreaker activated his headlights, illuminating the wide space that they found themselves in. The powerful beams cut through the darkness, sweeping away the shadows and glinting off what appeared to be a row of stasis pods at the far end of the room.

The three mechs froze. Hound extended his sensors, trying to see if the pods were active. The return ping came back showing that three of the six were not only active, but occupied. Trailbreaker located the control panel, checking the status of the three mechs. 

“They are Decepticons, that’s all I can tell. I can‘t get further without the codes.”

Sunstreaker checked his comm unit. The signal to the surface was faint so he moved closer to the door, pinging a request for assistance signal and tagging it with a special operations and security request code. The signal should bring a team to their location, hopefully with a spec-ops agent to get more information from the console, and a security detail in case they had to reactivate the mechs in the pods.

***********************************************************

Skywarp was out of his room almost as soon as Ironhide had unlocked the door. The young mech was practically bouncing on his peds and Ironhide grinned at his enthusiasm.

“D’ya want ta take a trip through th’ ‘racks before we get energon, or after?” The mention of the wash racks dimmed the seekers excitement somewhat. His wings flattened and he began to look uneasy again. “Ya don’t want ta see ya trine mate lookin’ like that do ya?” Ironhide attempted to appeal to the legendary pride of seekers. Skywarp didn’t look convinced, shifting nervously. “’less ya want help with ya wings there’s enough solvent an’ time that we don’t need ta share th’ ‘racks. Ya not dirty enough ta need more’n a quick rinse.”

Skywarp perked up, confirming Ironhide’s suspicion that he was more uncomfortable with the idea of the presence of his caretaker in the wash racks with him than with the idea of getting clean. 

“’Racks first!” The seeker announced, heading for the door.

“Ten clicks! No more.” Ironhide warned, “Ah’ve got ta use th’ solvent as well.” The door to the wash racks swished close behind Skywarp before the seeker replied. There was a beep announcing that the door had been locked. Ironhide huffed good naturedly, heading for the energon dispenser.

In the wash racks Skywarp revelled in his solitude, applying the brush carefully to the seams of his plating, enjoying the feeling of being clean. He had to contort awkwardly to reach all of his wings, the brushes having clearly been designed for grounders, but his tense plating relaxed allowing solvent access to his protoform. 

Skywarp trilled happily, he had heard Ironhide’s warning about only having ten clicks of solvent, but his chronometer showed he still had more than half that time left. With the door locked he felt much safer. He was more confident now that Ironhide wouldn’t hurt him, but being the one to have locked the door gave him a feeling of security that he hadn’t had in far too long.

He knew it couldn’t last, not if he wanted to see Thundercracker, and when his ten clicks were up he obediently turned the solvent flow off. He flicked his wings, and stood for another few clicks, allowing the solvent to drip from his plating, before venting a heavy sigh and replacing the brushes back on the shelf. He turned the drier on, allowing the last of the solvent to evaporate and glanced down at his forearms. His plating was dull and scuffed. There was no polish on any of the shelves, or any polishing cloths. Skywarp felt a tiny flare of disappointment. He wanted to look good for his trine mate, Thundercracker would worry if he looked scuffed and uncared for.

He clicked the drier off again, and nerved himself to open the door. He didn’t really think that Ironhide would be waiting behind the door when he stepped out, but he couldn’t suppress the tiny flutter of fear that shot through his spark.

Ironhide was sitting at the table, watching something on the console and sipping his cube of energon. A second cube sat in front of him, along with the inevitable supplements. He glanced up at Skywarp as the seeker stepped into the room and smiled.

“Ya done?” Skywarp nodded his afirmative, “Ok. Ya want ta drink ya cube now?” he gestured to the unopened cube on the table in front of him. The black seeker eyed it for a moment, gauging how quickly he could get it and get out of range. “Ah’m goin’ ta finish mah cube an take a trip through th’ ‘racks, then we can go if ya like.”

Ironhide didn’t miss the happy little flutter of Skywarp’s wings as the young mech came to sit at the table. Skywarp kept darting glances at Ironhide as he reached for the cube, leaning back quickly when he had it, and the supplement packet, in his servo. Ironhide didn’t move, attention apparently on the screen but he was inwardly quite pleased that Skywarp was willing to come near him at all. It was definitely progress.

*************************************************************

In the wash racks Ironhide looked around carefully. He had not noticed anything out of place, or missing when he had arrived back at his quarters the previous cycle, and his supplements appeared to have been un-tampered with.

It was possible that Skywarp had been too nervous to actually attempt any of the pranks he had clearly been plotting. The overly innocent act had certainly not fooled a mech as used to dealing with troublemakers as Ironhide, but it looked like Skywarp had not yet tried anything.

Ironhide reached for his cleanser, spreading a little on a brush, and working the chemicals into his armour seams. He glanced down at his forearms and chestplates, re-set his optics, and sighed.

It was a clever prank! He had to admit it. It looked like Skywarp had taken some of the cobalt supplement that Ironhide had sitting by the energon dispenser, and added it to the cleanser. The action of the solvent and the scrubbing had caused the fine cobalt powder to stain his normally red plating a dark magenta.

So much for assuming that the young mech hadn’t dared to prank him!

His lips twitched as he realised just how clever the prank was. If Skywarp had used the cleanser it wouldn’t show on his black plating. Ironhide huffed, realising that he would either have to scrub all his plating with the offending cleanser to turn it all the same colour, or leave it blotchy. He opted to scrub, the colour was not even across his plating, but it was better than obvious splodges of colour.

He briefly contemplated getting Skywarp in to help him, but decided against it. Skywarp would probably be terrified at the prospect. 

As the solvent ended he looked his plating over before flicking on the drier, chuckling.

*************************************************************

Thundercracker paced his room, waiting for the door chime that would tell him that Ironhide had arrived. He didn’t entirely trust that the Autobot would actually bring his trinemate, and had steeled himself for disappointment. The thought had come to him while he had been lying on his berth that it would be in keeping with what he knew of the Autobots penchant for playing mind games with their prisoners. To build up the expectation of seeing his trine mate and then to snatch it away, making it conditional on some sort of behaviour from him. Behaviour he would be unable to comply with without giving himself up.

The door chime finally sounded and Thundercracker was honestly surprised to hear Ironhide’s deep tones when Prowl opened the door. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, that he was hiding in his room. The tug on his trinebond made him freeze, and gasp. He heard Skywarp responding to something Prowl had said, voice soft and nervous, before there was a tap on his door.

Skywarp stood in the doorway, Ironhide standing behind him. Thundercracker scowled at the Autobot, who gave Skywarp’s shoulder a quick pat before turning away. Skywarp stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Thundercracker relaxed, giving a little trill of welcome as Skywarp crossed to him, folding his trine mate into a tight hug.

“Are you alright?” Thundercracker queried in trills and clicks, servos reaching for black wings to stroke and pet his trine mate. Skywarp clicked an affirmative back, his own servos reaching for blue plating, pulling his trine mate closer. 

The fields of both seekers flared and began the slow process of starting to sync their systems. Plating and wings relaxed as the young mechs reassured themselves that the other was safe and unharmed. Softly clicked and trilled comments accompanied the touches as the two caught up in their own language.

Thundercracker growled when Skywarp told him about the twins, servos flying to his trine mates wings. Skywarp trilled to reassure him, digits flexing into Thundercrackers pectoral vents. Thundercracker also clicked disapprovingly at Skywarp’s scuffed plating, and at his stories of Ironhide’s behaviour. Behind the disapproval Thundercracker was relieved that his fear for Skywarp had not yet been realised, and more determined to keep his trine mate safe.

Skywarp chirped worriedly when Thundercracker told him about Starscream, and about the forced refuelling. Black servos gripped blue plating and Skywarp flared his field reassuringly. Thundercracker was surprised to realise that Skywarp had developed a measure of trust for the Autobot medic and his own field reflected it. Skywarp reassured him that Ratchet hadn’t caused him any pain, and clicked happily about the rust sticks. Thundercracker wasn’t entirely convinced, but trusted his trine mate.

Skywarp’s systems began to settle for recharge first after a few jours. The synch pulled Thundercracker with him, and the two curled together on Thundercracker’s narrow berth in a tangle of wings and limbs. Thundercracker’s engine purred in the first contentment he had felt in far too long as Skywarp’s digits gently clenched on the top edge of his wings.

*******************************************************************

Jazz tapped gently on Thundercracker’s door, holding a pair of energon cubes. There was silence from inside so he triggered the door to open. Both seekers were soundly recharging, cuddled together, wings occasionally twitching. It was adorable, and gave Jazz a brief flare of hope that Thundercracker would start to improve. He put the cubes down on the desk and crept out, but not without taking a quick image capture for Ironhide and Prowl.

“Y’gotta’ see this!” the saboteur announced when he reached the main room again, pinging the picture to his fellow Autobots where they sat playing a strategy game. Ironhide broke into a wide grin, and the corners of Prowl’s mouth quirked up slightly. 

“Ratch’ll be pleased.” Ironhide commented, still smiling, “He’s been on at Skywarp ta get more recharge.”

“Hopefully this will make Thundercracker a bit more relaxed as well.” Prowl’s door wings flicked, betraying his amusement. “I think we need to get them seeing each other regularly. They will both be a lot happier.”

Ironhide nodded, considering the options. “Red won’t be happy ya realise? He‘s dead set against ‘em havin‘ any contact.”

“Ratch’ll back us up.” Jazz reminded them. “He’s pretty protective ‘bout kids anyway, an‘ he‘s taken these five t‘spark.”

“The Prime gave us a measure of autonomy to keep Skywarp and Thundercracker safe and happy.” Prowl reminded them. “If we feel it is honestly best for them to meet regularly then no-one can override that unless they can prove it will be bad for either of them or puts the safety of everyone else at risk.”

“Ah’m happy ta work out a schedule with ya. Ah want ta get Skywarp out an’ meetin’ other mechs as well. Ah’m goin’ ta get both of us workin’ on one of th’ construction teams soon.”

“Y’think Skywarp’s ready t’ do tha’ yet?” asked Jazz, glancing at Ironhide’s faintly purple plating.

“Dunno, but ah need ta try. Ah don’t think sittin around mah quarters wi’ nothin’ ta do is goin’ ta help.”

“I suspect you are correct.” Prowl flicked his door wings again, “I don’t think Thundercracker is ready for that just yet. I’m still hoping to get him to walk to the medbay without major drama.”

“D’y’think we’ll avoid major drama when th’ two sleepin’ beauties in there wake up an’ it’s time fer Skywarp to leave?” asked Jazz cautiously, one optic on the door to Thundercracker’s room. It had been a major concern that the two seekers would refuse to be separated and put up a fight, which would result in one or both being hit with the stasis generators. 

“Skywarp has promised ta behave. He wants ta be allowed ta see Thundercracker again.” Ironhide caught Jazz’s sceptical look and added “He’s been pretty good at doin’ what ah tell him so far.” Jazz’s visor flicked across Ironhide’s plating again, but didn’t comment.

“I suspect that Thundercracker is the one we could have an problem with. He seems to be determined to test us. It’s likely that he wants to see how far he can push before we punish him.” Prowl paused, an unhappy expression flickering across his faceplates, “I think he’s used to accepting punishment for things Skywarp did. I also think that any punishments he received were probably disproportionate to whatever actually happened.”

Jazz reached out and patted Prowl’s servo, he knew how worried Thundercracker’s behaviour had made his friend. Then he froze, holding up a servo for his fellow Autobots to be quiet. There was the faint sound of movement from Thundercracker’s room. 

“I think they’re awake.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ratchet is amused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a Beta Reader. The amazing CheerfullyMorbid has gone through this chapter before I posted it. It now actually resembles English! Thanks CheerfullyMorbid I really REALLY appreciate it!
> 
> December is a busy month for me and I've only got one more chapter fully written after this! I might not be able to keep up a weekly posting schedule at this rate!
> 
> As always the views of my readers matter to me, please let me know what you think!

Skywarp surfaced slowly from the best recharge he had had since the war had ended. He could feel his trine mate waking slowly next to him, but something seemed off. Thundercracker was there, but Starscream was not, and the confusion pulled him back to wakefulness. He sat up, processor frantically rebooting, looking around the unfamiliar room for his missing trine mate.

His wings slumped and he gave a little whimper when his processor finished its boot sequence and he accessed his recent memories. Thundercracker was staring up at him, his own processor still rebooting, and he could see his trine mate’s confusion mirroring his own. Skywarp reached for Thundercracker’s wings, petting gently, trilling reassurance. Thundercracker surfaced further, with his own little whimper as his own memories loaded. He clutched at Skywarp, wanting reassurance that his trine mate was there, and Skywarp chirped softly at him.

Glancing around, Skywarp noticed the two cubes sitting by the berth and stiffened slightly, before forcing himself to relax. The Autobots had clearly been here while they were recharging, but they hadn’t touched either seeker. Both energon cubes were unopened, but there were no accompanying packets of supplements. Thundercracker was also eyeing the cubes uncertainly, and Skywarp picked one up, inspecting it carefully before handing it over, wings signalling that it looked ok.

Thundercracker took the energon, subjecting it to his own inspection. He cracked the cube and sipped it carefully. The taste of the unadulterated energon flooded his mouth and he hummed in pleasure. The bitter supplements, while not undrinkable, were not to his taste. Skywarp sipped his own cube, enjoying his own plain energon and snuggling in to his trine mate’s side.

Energon finished, Skywarp scanned the room to see whether the crate with Thundercracker’s belongings had been brought in as well. His wings drooped a little when he saw it hadn’t. Prowl had advised him to leave it in the main room when he had arrived, so it must still be there. Ironhide had assured him that no-one would touch it. Skywarp wasn’t entirely sure if he believed the weapons specialist, but had left it anyway. He would be able to tell if anything was missing, after all.

That still left the issue of getting the crate, which would mean going into the main room and facing the stares of the three Autobots sitting out there. Ironhide did not really worry him so much, his caretaker had proved he was reasonably predictable, and was unlikely to do anything if Skywarp didn’t provoke him and did what he was told. Prowl and Jazz were totally unknown quantities, Jazz especially, and he was unsure what would happen. He was not entirely convinced that Ironhide would be able to prevent either mech if they did decide to try to stop him getting the crate.

Glancing at Thundercracker, Skywarp steeled himself and slid from the berth. “Got your stuff. In a box. Outside,” he clicked quickly. “Going to get it.” Thundercracker chirped his unease, glancing at the door. He was reluctant to let his trine mate out of the room, worried that he would be dragged away.

“Shall I come?”

Skywarp shook his head. “Harder to sneak in with two. I can get in and get out.” He crossed to the door, listening intently. There was a low buzz of conversation from the other room; Jazz appeared to be telling some sort of story. Skywarp could hear Ironhide’s rumbling chuckle, and Prowl saying something in response.

He slipped through the door silently and crossed to the crate. Prowl’s door wings twitched in reaction to his presence and the tactician glanced over his shoulder at the black seeker. Ironhide glanced up as well, smiling at Skywarp, and Jazz quirked a quick grin at the seeker.

"Ya ok kiddo?” Ironhide asked as Skywarp froze under their combined stares. The younger mech gave a quick nod, not moving from his spot by the crate. “Ya gettin’ Thundercracker’s stuff?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp didn’t move, watching the three Autobots carefully. He wasn’t ready to turn his back on any of the mechs. Prowl turned back to the table, lifting his unfinished cube of energon. Ironhide just nodded encouragingly.

“Ah want ta leave in a coupl’a joors, jus’ so ya’re aware. Ah’ll call ya when ah’m ready ta go. Ok?” Skywarp nodded shortly and Ironhide gave him another smile before turning back to Prowl, and the game in front of them. “Is it mah turn?”

Skywarp grabbed the crate and fled back to Thundercracker, taking a shaky in-vent when he reached the relative safety of his trine mate’s room. Thundercracker hugged him tightly once the door had closed behind him. Skywarp chirred, trying to reassure him.

“Got to go soon.” Skywarp’s wings drooped. “Got two joors.”

Thundercracker growled softly, digits curling around Skywarp’s wings. His field broadcast just how displeased he was at the thought of his trine mate leaving. Skywarp could feel the protectiveness and the fear for his safety.

Tugging at the blue seekers servo Skywarp pulled him towards the crate which he had dropped by the door when Thundercracker had grabbed him.

Thundercracker reached for the data slugs and the data pad eagerly. Chirping his thanks at Skywarp. The data pad was a diary of sorts, written in a pidgin version of Vosian, and which he had maintained for some time. There was nothing especially important noted there, but the ability to write his thoughts down had become something that Thundercracker valued.  
The first aid kit was tucked under his berth, and the scrap of plating shoved well under the padding. Neither mech knew whether Ironhide, and therefore Prowl, knew about the scrap of metal, but Thundercracker wasn’t ready to take that chance.

Skywarp hummed as his trine mate crossed back to him and wrapped him in another hug. Thundercracker trilled his thanks, nuzzling Skywarp’s neck. They stayed wrapped together for a while in silence before Thundercracker tugged Skywarps’ servo, pulling him back to the berth. Skywarp grinned, and launched into the story of how he had turned Ironhide purple.

*********************************************************

Ironhide reluctantly stood after two more games. His chronometer showed that just over two joors had passed since Skywarp had grabbed the crate. This was the bit that he had been worrying about, would Skywarp leave his trine mate willingly? Having to activate the stasis generators on Skywarp and physically separate him from Thundercracker could set the black mech back badly, it would destroy the fragile trust that Ironhide had worked so hard to build.

“Do you want to try and get him to come out first?” asked Prowl, standing as well, “Of all of us he is most likely to respond to you.”

“Yeah.” Ironhide crossed to the closed door of Thundercracker’s room and knocked carefully. “Skywarp. We need ta be leaving. Can ya come out please.”

There was a muted scuffling noise from the other side of the door, and the time stretched out to the point that Ironhide considered knocking again. As he raised his servo again the door activated, opening to reveal Skywarp with Thundercracker hovering behind him, a restraining servo on his shoulder. Both seekers looked nervous, Thundercracker especially when he caught sight of the magenta mottling of Ironhide’s plating.

“Come on kiddo.” Ironhide deliberately did not reach for the young seeker, wanting him to move of his own accord. “Ah need ta swing past th’ medbay before we head back.” Skywarp took a small step forward, but Thundercracker’s servo tightened on his shoulder, pulling him back, his engines whining.

Skywarp gave a nervous chirp, glancing at Ironhide and back at the blue seeker holding him back. There was a brief flurry of wing twitches and clicks between the two mechs which ended with Skywarp ducking out of Thundercracker’s hold. The two faced each other. Skywarp’s wings drooping and Thundercracker’s field a confused jumble of fear, protectiveness and irritation.

Deciding that the stand off had gone on for long enough Ironhide stepped forward and put his own servo gently on Skywarp’s shoulder. The young mech flinched and Thundercracker squared up to the Autobot, growling. Skywarp’s field spiked with fear for his trine mate, and he chirped and clicked again, tone frantic, until the blue seeker stood down, expression unhappy.

“Come on Skywarp.” Ironhide gently patted the seeker’s shoulder, “Let’s go.” Thundercracker took an aborted step forward, crimson optics glancing over Ironhide’s shoulder. Skywarp twisted to see what his trine mate was looking at, and flinched slightly at Prowl’s stern expression from where the tactician stood behind Ironhide.

“Come on.” Ironhide tugged more firmly, turning Skywarp and leading him from the room. The young mech went with him calmly enough, but his wings hung low, and his field was miserable as Ironhide mauvered him towards the door.

“Thanks Prowl.” Ironhide paused on the threshold, nodding to his fellow Autobot. He gently tapped Skywarp’s shoulder until the seeker looked up. “Ya gonna’ thank Prowl?” he asked, holding Skywarp’s gaze.

“Thank you.” The young mech kept his optics on the floor, and the acknowledgment was muttered rather than spoken. Ironhide rumbled in a pleased manner, and patted his shoulder.

“You are welcome.” Prowl’s tone was warm and even as he opened the door to allow both mech’s to exit.

************************************************************

Ratchet had almost finished his shift in the medbay. He had completed Dirge’s check-up, and was worried by the dark seekers apparent depression. He had sat slumped on the med berth, wings drooping and optics dim throughout the whole check-up. Inferno had confirmed that the young mech had been quiet and reluctant to refuel for several cycles. Ratchet had suggested that the big mech contact Kup or Hoist and see if Dirge having contact with his trine mates would help.

The medic pottered around, tidying his tools, and putting things away when the medbay door opened. Ironhide and Skywarp entered, Skywarp’s wings were hanging low, and he looked unhappy. As the black seeker didn’t appear to be in pain, or injured Ratchet turned his attention to Ironhide.

One glance was enough to show him exactly why the weapon specialist was in his medbay. His lips twitched but, to his credit Ratchet didn’t immediately burst out laughing. Under the harsh medbay lights Ironhide’s plating was magenta with darker smears. He came closer, not bothering to hide the amusement in his field. Skywarp’s helm shot up, optics focussing on the medic, before twisting to glance back at his caretaker. For his part Ironhide was giving Ratchet a fierce glare, but his field was also amused, and a touch rueful.

“Primus kid, you have to tell me how you achieved that! Hot pink suits you ‘Hide!” the medic sniggered as Ironhide released Skywarp’s arm to cross his own arms across his chassis with a thoroughly put-upon expression on his face. Skywarp was glancing between the two Autobots, his own expression a picture of innocence. Don’t look at me, it said clearly, I had nothing to do with this!

“Very amusin‘.” Ironhide grouched “Ya got anythin’ ta git this stuff off’a mah platin’?

“Oh yes. Don’t worry.” sniggers turning to chuckles Ratchet took a couple of image captures for posterity, before turning to one of the cupboards. “Here you go.” he handed Ironhide a small bottle. “You might want to be careful with this, it’ll kill the nanites if you apply it too vigorously.”

“Enjoyin’ this ain’t ya, ya fragger?”

“Oh yes!” Ironhide snorted explosively, making Skywarp jump, and Ratchet crossed to the young seeker, laying a gentle servo on his wing. “I think whoever did this deserves a reward to be honest, it’s brightened my cycle!” he reached into his subspace as he spoke, handing Skywarp an unopened packet of rust sticks. The black mech glanced between the medic and his caretaker, taking in the amused fields, before accepting the offered packet, with another muttered “Thank you.”

Ironhide heaved a melodramatically heavy sigh, rolling his optics, “Come on brat! Thanks Ratch’.” He tugged Skywarp’s arm, leading the seeker from the medbay, field flicking against Ratchets in fond amusement.

Ratchet at least waited until the medbay door had closed behind his friend, before bursting out laughing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did this fic get over 3,000 views? I'm not going to complain, but... wow! 
> 
> As ever, big, big thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading. 
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, if I know why people like it I know what I can do better.

The three occupied stasis pods had been disconnected and transported to the brig. Wheeljack fussed with the settings which would allow the occupants to be re-activated. It had been decided to bring just one of the mechs online to start with, so the three pods, which had been linked to the same activation circuit, had been decoupled.

There was no way of telling who was in the pod. There were hundreds of cybertronians still unaccounted for on both sides, and a few neutrals. Some of the Decepticons not yet located were known to be highly dangerous mechs.

Sunstreaker, Hound, Trailbreaker, Springer, Jazz and Tracks, all armed, stood with their attention trained on the stasis pod. Wheeljack glanced up, meeting Optimus Prime’s serious blue optics. The Prime dipped his chin in a shallow nod, and the scientist turned back to the hastily rigged activation mechanism. He flicked the switches that would start the boot-up sequence.

The pod began whirring, lights flickering into life across its surface. The humming steadily intensified, and Optimus motioned the ring of armed mechs to converge on the pod. There was a click as the locking mechanism disengaged, and a hiss as the hydraulic system re-pressurised and the top slid aside.

Sunstreaker and Springer darted forward, grabbing the mech inside the pod before he could cycle through a full boot sequence. The Decepticon struggled, battle protocols activating and weapons on-lining, but the Autobot warriors surrounding him swiftly had him face down on the ground. The mech shrieked and thrashed, but was restrained, disarmed and hauled upright to face the Prime.

The mech was another seeker, one with green plating, who was built like Starscream, but slightly larger and heavier. Crimson optics were bright with fury and narrowed when they met Optimus’ calm ones.

“Decepticon seeker, what is your name and rank?” The seeker was silent, denta bared in a snarl. Optimus sighed internally and repeated his question. “Your name, and rank?”

“Acid Storm. Trineleader.” The answer was delivered with a snap.

“Who are in the other two stasis pods we found with yours?”

There was more silence. The green mech glared his defiance. The attitude was exactly what the Autobots had seen previously, with the young seekers already in custody. The Prime commed Ratchet to let him know the situation, and to request that he schedule the new seeker for a medical check as soon as possible.

“The war is over. Megatron is dead. We have all the Decepticon senior command still on-line in prison. We will be putting you into a cell pending a decision being made as to your future.”  
Acid Storm growled as he was dragged to a cell.

******************************************************************

Skywarp glanced sideways at Ironhide as they entered the Autobot’s quarters. Ironhide had snarled at Ratchet when the medic teased him over the strange colour of his plating, and had merely rolled his optics when Jazz had poked at him, but he had said nothing to Skywarp about the prank. The red mech didn’t even seem angry.

Skywarp was bewildered. Ironhide was reacting like Thundercracker would when he had caught his trine mate out with a prank, reacting to anyone who chose to poke him about it, but treating the prank itself with an amused tolerance.

He hesitated over going straight to his room. He didn’t really want to be alone. He had been reassured that Thundercracker was alright, and the sync had left him more relaxed than he had felt for a long time, but it also left him craving company. Ironhide’s confusing reaction to his prank notwithstanding, the red mech was the only company available.

Decision made, Skywarp passed his own door and followed Ironhide into the main room.  
Ironhide looked surprised at the development, but smiled warmly at Skywarp as he put the unopened rust sticks on the table and curled up in the corner of the sofa.

“Ya ok?” The black seeker nodded, optics tracking Ironhide carefully. “Ya want ta watch somethin’?”

“Something funny?”

“Ya can pick what ya like.” Ironhide sent a ping to power up the console, and gestured towards it. Skywarp flicked his optics between him and the screen, wings twitching slightly. “Ah’m goin’ ta get th’ energon while ya decide.” He crossed to the dispenser, beginning the sequence, putting his back to the seeker.

Skywarp slid from the couch, darting glances his caretaker, as he moved towards the console. He brought up the menu quickly enough, and carefully typed his request. He glanced back at Ironhide, who still had his back turned, waiting for the second cube. Satisfied that the big Autobot was occupied he looked carefully at the list of programmes Teletraan had brought up, puzzling out the glyphs.

He didn’t notice Ironhide move away from the dispenser, and jumped slightly when he felt the change of air pressure against his wings which meant that the Autobot had come up behind him.

“What ya got?” Ironhide's voice was warm, and his field calm and relaxed. He took in the selection on the screen and pointed to one of the options. “Tha’ ones s’posed ta be funny.” He glanced sideways at Skywarp, judging how his next words would be taken. “Ah know it’s an Earth one, but it doesn’t have any talkin’.”

Skywarp stiffened, optics darting to Ironhide, who gave him a reassuring smile. The young seeker’s expression and field were wary as Ironhide turned away, back to the couch.

“Ya want ta finish decidin’ an‘ come an‘ drink ya cube?” Flustered, Skywarp selected the indicated cartoon, and sat on the other end of the couch. He grabbed his cube and supplements and turned his attention to the screen.

The programme seemed to consist of a number of very short episodes involving two Earth animals chasing each other. One kept using all sorts of strange things to catch the other, and kept falling off cliffs, or down holes or running into things. Skywarp was amused, sipping his cube and watching the programme in fascination. As Ironhide had promised, it contained no speech and only a couple of Earth glyphs. There were plenty of bangs, crashes and explosions.

He didn’t notice how cold he was getting, but his frame did, shuffling closer to the warm mech at the other end of the couch. His social protocols, which had been running hard since his sync with Thundercracker, were humming happily as he got closer to Ironhide. Eventually he was leaning against the red mech.

Ironhide had been hyper aware of the seeker inching nearer. He kept still, his field smooth and welcoming until Skywarp snuggled into his side. Skywarp’s own field was calm, and more relaxed that Ironhide had ever felt from the skittish young seeker. It didn’t feel like the mech was consciously aware that he was resting against his caretaker.

Skywarp flinched and reset his optics in confusion when Ironhide wrapped a warm arm around him. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in this position, but his protocols were flooding his processor with positive data, and the heat from Ironhide’s frame was relaxing him and making him reluctant to wriggle away again.

*******************************************************

Ratchet huffed when he received Optimus’ comm. Three new Decepticon seekers who needed checking for issues caused by who-knew-how-long in stasis. Ratchet suspected that, in line with the five already in custody, they would also require buffers or dampers to prevent them using some highly dangerous in-built abilities. Ratchet recognised one of the three names - Acid Storm. If he remembered correctly, that seeker had the ability to create a dense cloud of highly acidic fog. The acid would eat through plating, and melt plastic and fine wires as it seeped under gaps in armour.

Ratchet remembered one incident clearly, where a full detachment had been caught in a carefully laid trap. The troops had been caught by the suddenly descending fog, which had eaten away at the integrity of their armour, before being blasted by Thundercracker’s sonics. There had been one survivor of the attack, who had unusually thick plating. He had limped back to base using his GPS system because the acid had destroyed his optics.

Ratchet commed Wheeljack with what he knew about Acid Storm’s abilities. The inventor would not be able to do much without actually seeing the seeker’s specs, but Wheeljack was ingenious and could certainly come up with a couple of workable theories.

The Prime hadn’t said explicitly, but Ratchet would have to prepare to perform spark scans on all three seekers. Ratchet hoped that at least one of the three would be old enough to provide some useful intelligence.

Looking down, Ratchet took stock of the tools he had been preparing. He was going to start mapping the sensors in Starscream’s wings. The medic was very aware that the wings of fliers contained a huge number of specialised sensors, and needed to determine how many of each type would be required. All the sensors would need to be replicated. Ratchet knew that the medbay stock, although sufficient for everyday needs, would not be anywhere near enough to replace the thousands of damaged ones in the seeker’s wings.

Sighing, Ratchet carried the tray across to the unconscious seeker. He suspected that between five and ten percent of the receptors would be functional. Replacing the damaged ones would be another long job. Out of habit, the medic glanced at the readouts on the monitors above Starscream’s berth, then looked again. The system had been set to raise an alert if Starscream’s vitals suddenly weakened. Incredibly, the figures shown were considerably stronger than they had been the previous cycle.

The improvement was so entirely unexpected that Ratchet reset his optics in bewilderment. He had not performed any further major repairs on the seeker, but from the way his spark had strengthened, Ratchet estimated that a spark scan would be viable in a few cycles. Idly Ratchet wondered if it had been Thundercracker’s visit which had caused the improvement. Mechs who regularly synced together tended to have a stabilising effect on their unit mates, which was one reason that the Autobot medics always synced with patients.

Humming happily, Ratchet began testing the sensors in the closest wing. He was already planning to get Skywarp in to see his trine mate when the black seeker was brought to the medbay again in eight cycles.

********************************************************************

Thundercracker had retreated to his berth when Ironhide and Skywarp had left. Curling up, he tried to recapture the sense of peace and safely that had come from being with his trine mate. His concentration was shattered when Prowl appeared in the doorway of the room, and he glared at the Autobot.

“Your energon is waiting out here.” Prowl turned away as abruptly as he had appeared, clearly expecting Thundercracker’s obedience.

The blue seeker curled his lip in a silent snarl. He was not about to be ordered around like a stupid little Autobot youngling. Instead he grabbed his data pad from under his berth pillows and settled to write.

Prowl gave him a jour before sending Jazz to try to coax the reluctant seeker into the other room. Thundercracker scowled at the white mech in irritation, hastily tucking the data pad back under the cushions. Jazz didn’t give any sign that he had noticed the little flurry of movement, but his processor was ticking over the implications.

“Y’want y’energon?” he asked mildly. “It’s on th’ table out ‘ere.” Thundercracker didn’t move, simply huffing in irritation. “C’mon, Ratch’ says y’gotta move more so Prowl wants y’to come out o’ y’room fer energon.” The seeker slid reluctantly from his berth, and stomped past Jazz and into the main room, field radiating petulance.

Prowl was reading a data pad of his own and glanced up when Thundercracker dropped himself gracelessly into a seat.

“There is your energon. Please do not forget your supplements.” He kept watching the blue seeker as the younger mech snatched up the cube and added a small scoop from the packet. Thundercracker’s expression was sulky, and Prowl briefly met Jazz’s optics. Jazz gave a small shrug and placed a gentle servo on Thundercracker’s wing.

Astonishingly the seeker relaxed slightly into the touch as he finished his cube. His field started to calm as the social protocols he had suppressed when Skywarp had left rebooted with a vengeance. Emboldened, Jazz rubbed little circles across the delicate metal, engine rumbling gently. He nodded to Prowl over Thundercracker’s helm.

“Would you like to watch something, Thundercracker?” Prowl asked, expression neutral.  
“Ok.” The seeker’s expression was wary, but he was responding and not retreating back to his room. Jazz kept rubbing gently, wanting to keep the seeker’s social protocols online.  
“Shall I pick something?”

The young mech shrugged, allowing Jazz to tug him gently from his seat to the couch. The saboteur wrapped an arm around Thundercracker, who stiffened slightly as his higher processor functions clashed with his programming. The rumbling engine and friendly field helped the programming settle, and the seeker slumped into his seat.

Prowl put his data pad down and crossed to the console, bringing up a menu and typing in a selection. As it started, he crossed back to the couch and sat, effectively trapping Thundercracker between himself and Jazz. The seeker shifted in slight discomfort, but Prowl reached for the closest wing and began stroking it carefully.

Thundercracker cuddled into Jazz’s hold and pressed his wing into Prowl’s servo. The seeker’s field reflected his confusion as contentment warred with his disinclination to allow Prowl and Jazz to touch him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a prank is pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prank, and more seeker un-cooperativeness (is that a word - lets say it is!). A bit more fluff as well... just because.
> 
> Thanks again to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading.

Skywarp had curled up against Ironhide, and was half in recharge when the older mech decided it was time to head for his berth. The seeker made a staticky noise when Ironhide shifted, and one of his servos came up to clutch at Ironhide’s arm, burrowing closer.

The young mech remained curled on the couch when Ironhide extricated himself. Deciding not to disturb him further by insisting he get up, Ironhide simply lifted the seeker gently and carried him to his room.

Skywarp shifted and roused slightly, but his optics were dim. He squirmed in Ironhide’s grip, but the Autobot simply adjusted his hold, carrying him through to the seeker’s berthroom. If Skywarp had been Bluestreak, or even Bumblebee, Ironhide would have carried the younger mech to his own berth and allowed him to sleep there. Skywarp was a different situation, and Ironhide would do nothing to damage the growing trust that was developing between himself and the black seeker.

Ironhide gently laid Skywarp on his berth, shaking out the thermal blanket and tucking the younger mech in. He cupped Skywarp’s cheek briefly with the palm of his servo, and the mech snuggled into his touch.

Backing out of the room, Ironhide locked the door behind himself, pondering the new development.

It was the first time the seeker had initiated any form of physical contact. Ironhide suspected that it had been triggered by previously dormant social protocols. Fliers, shuttles and helos were all known, or rumoured, to be very tactile. It made sense that the programming had not surfaced before now. Skywarp’s battle protocols, and the long spell he had spent alone in a cell, had probably helped bury it.

It had certainly been triggered by Skywarp spending time with his trine mate. It was highly likely that the two had synced up. It was less clear whether this was something which would surface again if Skywarp synced up with someone else.

Ironhide wondered whether a period of defrag would reset the protocols, leaving the young Decepticon wary of further contact, or whether the sociability would continue. He decided to try and capitalise on the situation by inviting Bluestreak over for part of the next cycle. Quite apart from getting the seeker used to other mechs, Ironhide was curious as to how Skywarp would react to an Autobot who was closer to his own age.

************************************************************************

Optimus was quietly elated as he walked towards the brig. Ratchet had performed a spark scan on the leader of the trine of seekers that they had discovered in stasis, and had categorically stated that, while the mech was relatively young, he had definitely been in an upgraded adult frame (with all the appropriate programming) since before the bombing of Vos. The Prime hoped that there would be at least some answers forthcoming to their most pressing questions.

Of course that meant getting Acid Storm to talk. The Decepticon faction, on the whole, were not exactly chatty. Many of them seemed incapable of stringing a basic sentence together without at least three curses of a paint peeling nature.

Most Decepticons in fact seemed to communicate in a series of growls, ex-vents and explosions of static, interspersed with the occasional monosyllable. At least that was how they spoke around the Autobots. Optimus wondered whether they would be more talkative with other Decepticons, but no-one had seen any sign of it.

Jazz had a theory that the Decepticons saw a large number of interpersonal relationships as a weakness and, since care had been taken to split up members of the same unit, most captured Decepticons didn’t have mechs around them who they felt comfortable speaking with.

Prowl had suggested that Optimus try to speak with Acid Storm in person, so the Prime was heading towards the brig to do just that. Most of the Decepticons who had been interrogated had been uncommunicative, and Optimus refused to allow his special operations team to use their more…subtle…methods of persuasion. The war, after all, was over.

Optimus knew that Prowl expected him to use his connection with the matrix to encourage Acid Storm to talk. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. He would infinitely prefer that the green seeker speak to him of his own accord. Despite his personal feelings, the Prime knew that the information held by Acid Storm would be essential to help the younger seekers re-integrate into cybertronian society.

The green mech was seated at a table when the Prime entered the room, servos manacled to the chair he was seated on. Two guards stood by the door, optics trained on the seeker, who sat stony faced with his wings hiked up.

Optimus resisted the urge to sigh heavily through his vents. Acid Storm looked like he was going to be uncooperative. He sent a quick ping to the guards, wanting to try to make it as easy as possible.

::Both of you can wait outside.::

::Sir?:: The larger of the two guards looked startled.

::I need to try to get our prisoner to talk to us, and I think it will be easier if I’m the only one in the room with him.::

::Sir, I don’t think…::

::He won’t talk if he feels threatened. I’ll ping you if I have any problems.:: He glanced towards the chained mech. ::He’s got cuffs on and he can’t even get out of that seat. I’m hardly going to be in much danger from him.::

::Yessir!:: The two guards filed out. Acid Storm had twisted, and was watching the little by-play with narrowed red optics. Optimus attempted to give the prisoner a reassuring smile, but the seeker’s wings flared out further in an instinctive display.

“Do you want some Energon?” Optimus offered. The Decepticons had been on short rations, even before Megatron’s death, and the offer of fuel had loosened more than a few glossa in the past.

Acid Storm stared at him, then looked back down at his chained servos. He didn’t say anything, making it quite clear from his expression that he felt that the Prime’s offer was a frivolous one.

“I’ll unlock one of your servos so you can drink it.”

Acid Storm just shrugged one shoulder suggesting, without words, that Optimus was at liberty to do what he wished.

Optimus took a cube of mid-grade from his subspace, and placed it on the table. Acid Storm eyed it with the suspicion that the Autobots had all become accustomed to from the captive Decepticons.

“Can you tell me the name of the other two Decepticons who were in stasis with you?” Optimus had decided to start with an easy question, hoping to warm the seeker up to the conversation. “We know they are seekers, I’m guessing they are your trine mates?”

Acid Storm didn't respond, clenching his denta. Of course he could tell the Prime who was in the other two stasis pods, he had been the highest ranking member of the aerial command on Cybertron. What the Prime really wanted, and had neglected to ask, was would he reveal the names of the other two Decepticons. The answer was, of course, no.

“Are the mechs in the stasis pods your trine mates?” More silence, and Optimus tried not to groan in frustration. This was going about as well as he had expected. “Fine, but can you at least tell us their names?” Nothing, but Acid Storm quirked an optical ridge, expression unimpressed. Optimus opted to change tack, hoping to throw the Decepticon off.

“We are aware that a number of the seekers we have in custody are very young. Much too young to be considered to be willing participants in this war. What can you tell us about that?”

Acid Storm wrinkled his nasal plating and Optimus suppressed the awareness of how cute the expression was, it made the mech look much younger and almost vulnerable. The seeker still didn’t say anything, but his wings twitched slightly. Optimus wondered whether this was Acid Storm’s way of talking without actually speaking to him.

Acid Storm was actually amusing himself by running through some of the foulest curses in the Vosian wing dialect. It didn’t help much, mostly because the curses were nowhere near as filthy as those in Cybertronian Standard, and also because most of them involved insults about the other mech’s flying ability. Not being a flier, the comparisons would be lost on the Prime.

“We are not happy about these young mechs being forced to fight a war. You are the only adult seeker we have in custody who is not in stasis, so we are looking to you for some answers.”

Acid Storm’s wings signalled that Optimus could look all he liked, and he curled his lip. The Prime could look, but if Acid Storm read him correctly the Autobot was too soft to beat the information out of him.

“Who authorised the placing of very young mechs in adult frames?”

Acid Storm kept his expression neutral. The Autobots were fools if they believed that every society before the war had functioned like the Iaconians, with their rules and authority. The Vosians had run their society with the idea of the flock at its centre. Things had been done for the good of the flock, for the good of the seekers as a whole. Protecting their sparklings from the Autobots, who would have grounded them, was a decision made by the flock, not by an individual.

“Why were sparklings placed in adult frames?”

Acid Storm had never rated the processor power of grounders very highly, but the Autobot Prime was clearly missing a few microchips.

“Who did this? We need to know what happened because we want these younglings to be able to function in our society.”

Idly Acid Storm wondered what function the Autobots saw the seekers performing in what they laughingly called their “society”. It would probably be similar to the function they had tried to force seekers into back before the war. He curled his lip in a grimace of distaste.

Optimus tried a few more questions, throwing in some bits of information in the hopes of getting a reaction from the green mech, but Acid Storm opted to ignore him, wings still and optics averted. Eventually the Prime gave up and left the cell. Acid Storm’s wings made a rude gesture at his retreating back. It was petty, but remarkably satisfying nonetheless.

**********************************************************************  
Ironhide unlocked Skywarp’s door and, as always, rapped gently on the panel to let the mech inside know he had done so. Unlike the previous cycle, there was no immediate movement from the room and Ironhide left the door to get the energon cubes.

Skywarp emerged cautiously, as always, but he came straight to the table and sat down, rather than hovering in the doorway watching Ironhide while his back was turned.

“Ya recharge OK?” Ironhide asked as he turned with Skywarp’s energon and supplements in his servo.

“Yeah.” The response was quiet, but Skywarp wasn’t flinching away at the sound of his voice, and took the cube and packet with only a brief hesitation.

“Unless ya want ta share th’ ‘racks wi’ me ahm goin’ ta need th’ solvent this cycle. Ah need ta get this stuff off mah plating.” Skywarp just peered up at him, crimson optics huge and innocent, and Ironhide snorted slightly. “Don’t give me tha’ look! Think ya’self lucky tha’ah’m not makin’ ya help me scrub it off!”

Skywarp’s wings drooped, and his shoulders hunched as he took his optics off Ironhide and focussed furiously on his cube.

“Brat!” There was a good deal of fond amusement in both Ironhide’s tone and field, and he leaned over and gently tweaked Skywarp’s wingtip. The young mech jumped slightly and looked back up at his caretaker. “Can ah trust ya ta behave in here while ah’m in th’ racks.” Skywarp gave him another look, this one slightly suspicious, and Ironhide continued. “Bluestreak is comin’ over later. Ah don’t want ta have ta make ya clean up a mess before tha‘!”

“’K.” Skywarp still looked suspicious, Ironhide could practically see the gears turning in the kid’s helm. He clearly suspected an ulterior motive, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Good kid.” Ironhide patted him briefly on the shoulder before adding the supplements to his own cube. He drank it down quickly, wanting to get through the wash racks, and stood. He pretended not to notice the way that Skywarp flinched slightly. The flinch wasn’t as pronounced as it had been a couple of cycles previously, but it saddened Ironhide that the seeker was still so jumpy. He knew that the progress that Skywarp had made in the past thirteen cycles was far ahead of what had been predicted, and far better than any of the other seekers currently in custody. Ironhide just wished that he knew how to help the young mech adjust.

When the Autobot had shut the door to the wash racks Skywarp relaxed slightly. He glanced around the room. He wasn’t planning anything messy but, with twenty clicks of unsupervised free time, he would have enough time to put his plan into action.

The seeker stood and began tugging the couch, moving it ninety degrees so its back was to the door of the wash racks. The rest of the furniture followed, set carefully up to mirror the previous position.

It was a silly prank, more mildly annoying than anything, but Skywarp wanted to test Ironhide’s forbearance. Would he treat it as a joke again, or would he start getting free with his fists, the way the seeker had expected from the start? Skywarp wanted to know how far, and how hard, he could push the weapons specialist before Ironhide would turn his legendary temper on him.

Skywarp had carefully kept all hint of his plan from Thundercracker. He knew his trine mate would worry. Ironhide had been gentle so far, but Skywarp needed to know what would happen if he upset the big mech.

All the furniture had been rearranged when the black seeker heard the solvent being turned off, and the driers start. He stood for a click, debating whether it would be best to wait in the main room, or to hide in his own room. He opted to hide, scuttling back to his room and shutting his door as the driers stopped.

Skywarp stood just beside the door, listening carefully. He could hear the door to the wash rack open and Ironhide’s heavy tread come through and stop. Ironhide ex-vented audibly and Skywarp heard him crossing to the door. Skywarp skipped backwards quickly, out of grabbing range as Ironhide’s heavy knock sounded.

“Skywarp! It’s a cute stunt, but are ya goin‘ ta come an‘ fix this now?” The seeker backed off further, but Ironhide stomped away to his own room. Skywarp heard the swish of the door closing, and the click of the lock.

The young seeker waited for a breem, but didn’t hear Ironhide come out again. Cautiously he opened his door, peering into the main room just in case Ironhide was trying to trap him.

The red Autobot was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t sounded angry, but Skywarp was well aware that a mech who sounded calm could be anything but. Megatron and Soundwave were frequently at their most dangerous when they were speaking quite levelly without any shouting.

Skywarp debated internally, should he comply immediately with Ironhide’s order or wait, and see what his caretaker would do. Ironhide had said that Bluestreak was coming over, so it was unlikely that he would do anything to visibly damage the seeker. Skywarp opted to wait, leaning against the doorframe with a nonchalant appearance which did not match how he felt.

Ironhide’s door unlocked with a snap and Skywarp nearly bolted back to his room but he caught himself. He forced his wings down to a neutral position and stayed by his door. Ironhide emerged from his own room, optics going straight to the furniture, and heaved another ex-vent. It sounded tired, but not exasperated. He turned back to look at Skywarp, who was poised to run, and shook his helm.

“Ya need help?” The big mech moved towards the furniture. “Should ah be glad ah don’t have any adhesive in mah quarters?” He glanced back at Skywarp, a slight smile on his faceplates. “Come on, ah’m not doin’ this on mah own. Ah warned ya ah’d make ya clean it up.” Skywarp moved closer cautiously and Ironhide rolled his optics. “Brat! Ya grab this end o’ th’ couch an’ ah’ll take that one an’ we’ll move it back.”

Ironhide noted with interest that the furniture mirrored its previous position exactly. The table was the same distance from the couch, and the chairs in exactly the same configuration. He filed the observation away to discuss with Ratchet.

Skywarp lifted his end of the couch as indicated, moving it back to its original position. Ironhide stepped around the couch and Skywarp jumped back, wings shooting up in alarm. Ironhide stopped and regarded the black mech calmly.

“Ya ok?” Bright crimson optics tracked his movements, the seeker’s posture radiating distrust. Ironhide internally sighed. The previous cycle’s step forward had clearly been matched by a step back. He didn’t make any moves towards Skywarp, hoping that he would calm on his own.

The tense wings relaxed slightly when Ironhide didn’t attempt to grab him. His caretaker grunted softly, turning back to the rest of the furniture.

“Ah’ll help ya wi’ th’ table, but ya can put th’ rest back yerself.” He lifted one end meaningfully and Skywarp hurried to grab the other end, lifting it carefully. Once it was back in place Ironhide stepped back as Skywarp turned to pick up a chair. He watched the seeker manoeuvre the chair back to its original position, before heading back to his room.

Skywarp watched Ironhide leave out of the corner of his optics. He squashed the concern that Ironhide was going to get something he would use to inflict some sort of punishment. He would find out soon enough. The weapon specialist came back in a couple of clicks with a box which he placed on the table, and continued watching Skywarp move the chairs back. Skywarp himself had started calculating the best way to evade any attempts to grab him. He did not know what was in the box, and he was sure he did not want to find out.

Ironhide seated himself at the table and began taking polish and soft cloths from the box. He kept an optic on Skywarp’s movements. The seeker was moving the final chair back to position, and watching Ironhide himself. The polish and cloths seemed to have caught his attention. He was looking hopeful, but his field reflected uncertainty. Ironhide suspected that the young mech didn’t expect to be allowed to use the polish after his little prank.

“Ya want ta polish up a bit? Ironhide offered him a cloth, watching the flick of emotions over Skywarp’s face plates. Skywarp was wary, clearly unsure about getting closer. Ironhide suspected that he had learned, from experience, not to get too near to someone he had pulled a prank on.

The Autobot smeared one cloth with polish, then put the tin and another cloth on the table, pushing it towards Skywarp. He began rubbing the polish into his own plating, buffing gently. From the corner of his optic he could see the seeker edging closer, before backing off again quickly when he shifted. Ironhide said nothing when the black mech opted to retreat to his own room, hoping that a little time alone would help him settle back down.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are stroppy seekers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating earlier than usual because my schedule is a mess thanks to the holidays! This is also slightly shorter than usual.
> 
> Call it a new years present...that is a thing right?
> 
> CheerfullyMorbid has done a fantastic job beta reading this chapter as always!

Thundercracker re-booted, on his own, on his berth. He felt cold and alone and he wanted his trine mate. He vaguely remembered Prowl helping him to his berth after he had almost dropped into recharge while snuggled between the two Autobot officers. He sat up quickly, servos flying to check his frame for any sign that something might have happened while he was in recharge. His panels were all in place, and his spark chamber felt fine. There was no pain, and his frame was not scratched, dented or covered in paint transfers.

Thundercracker relaxed slightly, relief flooding his lines. His wings dipped gently and he swung his peds off the berth, heading towards the wide window set into one wall. The window had a small balcony outside, but the window itself was locked, and the panes made of unbreakable artificial crystal. 

Thundercracker had too much self respect to simply plaster himself against the window, but he placed one black servo on the crystal, wanting to get as close as possible to the open sky. He desperately wanted to fly, wanted to be able to open the window and just take off, but his thrusters were locked down and his navigational system scrambled. Even his anti-gravs, something most seekers had active all the time to prevent damage to their thrusters, were off-line. If he tried to fly now, he would drop like a stone. 

A fleeting thought crossed his processor that maybe that would not be a bad thing, but he dismissed it instantly. He had to remain strong for his trine.

His thrusters growled, unable to ignite and his wings twitched. He had never been grounded for as long as this without access to a flight simulator at least. He let his helm fall forward, landing against the crystal with a soft thunk.

A slight change in the air pressure behind him had him turning before the door was even fully open. Instinctively he flared his wings and widened his stance, making himself look bigger. Prowl stood in the open doorway, his own doorwings held in a neutral position. Nothing in his face or field suggested that he found Thundercracker’s posture intimidating.

Thundercracker fixed the Autobot with a cold stare. The previous cycle had been a mistake. He was going to be more careful about not allowing the Autobots to touch him in the future. He was determined not to do anything that would encourage them to get snuggly again. The thought left him a bit cold, but he suppressed it with the ease of practice.

“Your energon is on the table.” The black and white mech was as unemotional as always, turning to leave when he had delivered his message. Thundercracker had expected Prowl to say something else, something about what had occured the previous cycle. The blue seeker was slightly disappointed. He was determined to make clear to Prowl that he would not allow any Autobots to touch him again.

He waited until Prowl had left the doorway before making a move. He stood cautiously in the space Prowl had just vacated, surveying the room. Prowl was seated at the table, in front of two cubes of energon and a packet of supplements. One cube was open, and Prowl gently pushed the closed cube and supplement packet towards Thundercracker. He opened the cube and scooped in the additives.

“When you finish that you need another trip through the wash racks. Ratchet wants your joints to get cleaned and lubricated every two cycles until your next check up.” Thundercracker curled his top lip, field flicking with disgust. Prowl simply flicked one door wing, expression still neutral.

Thundercracker simply huffed, grabbing the cube and moving back towards his room.  
“Thundercracker.” Prowl’s voice was sharp, and his door wings had shot up. “I’d prefer that you refuel with me.” The seeker just growled and retreated, closing the door behind him.

**************************************************

Optimus sat in his office and rested his helm in his servo’s. His little chat with Acid Storm had gone poorly, to say the least. Not entirely unexpected, given the reaction of the other seekers.

The Prime allowed his servos to drop back onto the desk, trying to figure out how to get through to any of the seekers in the Autobots’ care. Thundercracker and Thrust were frightened and angry, Ramjet was destructive, both towards himself and things around him, Dirge was depressed, and Skywarp was still much too nervous to be willing to talk to Ironhide, let alone the Prime.

He felt briefly hopeless. Ratchet had warned him, again, that the seekers would need to fly, and he wasn’t even sure how to achieve that safely. 

::Optimus?:: His comm pinged and Ratchet’s call signature came through ::You got a minute?::

::Certainly, what’s wrong?::

::I’ve just finished checking the second seeker we got out of stasis.::

::And?:: Optimus suspected that the pale blue seeker was probably Acid Storm’s trine mate, although, of course, Acid Storm had refused to confirm it.

::He’s probably a few vorn older than Acid Storm, but he has some serious temperature regulation issues. He seems to have some modifications that channel it outwards and without access to these his core temperature plummets.::

::Will it go low enough to be dangerous?:: Optimus seriously hoped not. Allowing the spark to get too hot or too cold could cause it to dissipate, but the seeker could cause havoc if his modifications were left on-line.

::Yes.:: Trust Ratchet to be blunt about something like that.

Optimus didn’t swear through tremendous effort of will, but it was a close thing. He did allow his helm to rest tiredly on his desk. It was undignified, but there was no-one around to see him.

::I'll keep the seeker in stasis for now. I can regulate his temperature externally. I’ve got 'Jack working on a more permanent solution.::

::Any word on his name?::

::No:: Although the comm didn’t allow Ratchet's emotions to come through in his glyphs the Prime knew his chief medic well enough to be able to tell how aggravated he was by the situation.

::Very well, Ratchet. I’ll try talking to Acid Storm again.:: It was possible that the seeker would be more communicative if he thought his trine mate was in danger. Or this could backfire, badly. 

::Fine, I’ll look at getting the third mech in and scanned, he’s still in stasis. I suspect we have an actual adult trine of seekers on our servo’s. Hopefully one of them will crack and provide a bit more information about the kids.::

::I hope so Ratchet, I really hope so. I’ll arrange another session with Acid Storm.:: Optimus disconnected the comm, and sent a ping to Jazz.

**************************  
Skywarp was hiding in his room when Bluestreak arrived. Ironhide hadn’t pushed him to come out, wanting him to calm down a little. The last thing he wanted was for the younger mech to be panicking when the young sniper arrived. It would sour their relationship from the start. Ironhide wanted Skywarp to have some friendly interaction with an Autobot his own age, but he knew it was interaction which had the potential to turn unfriendly if the seeker felt threatened. 

When Ironhide opened the door to his quarters Bluestreak immediately grabbed him in a tight hug. Ironhide could hear Skywarp moving around in his room, so he detached one of his servos from the clingy grey mass attached to him and closed and re-locked the door.

“Hey Blue.” He wrapped his free servo around Bluestreak's shoulders, squeezing the closest gently. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m pretty good actually, are you ok? How do you find living with Skywarp? I don't think I could live with a seeker, especially Skywarp. I haven't seen you in ages. Actually I think it's only been like, twelve cycles, but it feels like ages.” He took an in-vent and looked up at Ironhide. “I’ve missed coming over to see you.”

“Ah’ve missed ya too Blue’.

“Good, well it’s not really good, but I have missed you, and missed coming to see you, and hanging out with you and stuff. I mean 'Bee and Blurr, and Roddy are great and everything, but hanging out with them just isn't the same.” Big blue optics looked up at Ironhide and Bluestreak hugged his favourite caretaker a bit tighter.

“Ya can stay over t’night if ya want,” offered Ironhide. He had missed Bluestreak’s company over the past few cycles, even the young mech’s near constant chatter. It was amazing how living with a mech who was nearly silent could do that for you.

“That would be really great 'Hide, I’ve missed staying with you, I don't like sleeping alone really. 'Bee isn't very good to share a berth with, he moves around too much when he's really deep in recharge, and Blurr gets too warm and Hot Rod is clingy, like really, really clingy, and he is really hard to wake up so he makes both of us late.”

Ironhide steered the grey mech towards the couch, pausing long enough to knock on Skywarp's door. He heard the skitter of thrusters against the floor, and guessed that the black seeker had been listening at the door. He hoped that Skywarp would be curious enough to come out on his own.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are video games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty chapters...How is this now twenty chapters long? At 52k words this is coming up for just over half the length of the average novel. 
> 
> I'm actually quite impressed that anyone is still reading!
> 
> Many thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta.
> 
> Feel free to comment if you guess which video game is described! Your comments and kudos make me skip up and down in happy excitement.

Acid Storm paced his cell, jittery at being grounded, at being in a cell, at being an Autobot prisoner. He worried about his trine. Shockwave had forced them to go into the stasis pods to conserve energy, and the next thing he knew he had been yanked out of stasis and told that the Autobots had won, and that he was a prisoner. He hadn’t seen his trine mates since he had been awoken. He wondered if they would be able to resist the Autobots’ interrogation techniques.

An Autobot appeared outside the energy bars and Acid Storm glared at the blurred form. The distortion from the bars would usually make it difficult to determine who was standing there, but the big frame and distinctive blue and red colouring made it easy this time.

The green seeker growled softly. If the Autobots thought they could get the Prime to cajole or intimidate any information out of him then they had another think coming. Acid Storm would remain loyal to Vos and his flock.

Another blurred form appeared, a smaller red mech. The bars muffled any sound to a heavily distorted murmur, but Acid Storm got the distinct impression that the Prime was arguing with the other mech. Probably about not entering a cell with a big bad Decepticon in it without six armed guards. The green seeker was slightly flattered at the idea he was so dangerous.

The smaller mech seemed to have either bright lights flashing at the top of his helm, or electrical discharge grounding out. The twinkling blue sparks were visible even from inside the cell. The Prime moved closer to the smaller shape, and the two appeared to blend together briefly. Acid Storm suspected that the Prime was getting touchy-feely with the other mech. He had never quite understood the grounders’ tendency to touch mechs who were not part of their immediate social group. Even within the flock of Vos, physical contact with mechs you did not know well was done cautiously.

The smaller mech hurried off, but Acid Storm knew that the Prime was hardly going to be either alone or unguarded. He suspected that there were at least two guards just out of sight, plus more stationed by the main door to this cell block. Despite the claustrophobia clawing at the back of his processor, he was not about to try running when the bars were deactivated. To do so would only lead to a humiliating experience in which he would probably be dragged back to his cell in front of a number of sniggering mechs. Acid Storm would keep his dignity, thank you.

The cell’s comments unit crackled to life: “Move towards the back of the cell.” 

Acid Storm waited a click before complying. It wouldn’t do to make the Autobots think he was willing to obey them without question.

When he was stood against the back wall, a section of the bars was deactivated and the big form of the Prime ducked into the cell. Acid Storm’s claustrophobia helpfully kicked up another notch, but he refused to let himself be intimidated.

“Ratchet is busy looking at one of the other seekers we found in stasis with you,” began the Prime without preamble. “He’s worried about his temperature regulation. Apparently he has some sort of modification to redirect his low temperature out as a weapon, and when this is turned off his internal temperature becomes dangerously low.”

Acid Storm froze, wings shooting up and out and field lashing out like a whip with shock and consternation. Optimus watched him carefully, wary of an attack. The seeker forcibly lowered his wings, and visibly relaxed, expression carefully blank.

“I take it he is your trine mate? If you give us his name we can try to find what information is available about him. It will allow our medical team to treat him more effectively.”

Acid Storm remained impassive. If Optimus had not seen his little display, he would have thought that the seeker didn't care about the other mech.

Acid Storm was furious with himself. He had betrayed his trine mate to the Autobots and had given them some leverage to encourage him to talk. He resolved to be more careful, turning his face pointedly away from the Prime and facing the wall.

****************************************************************

Ironhide had been cuddled on the couch with Bluestreak for almost a jour before Skywarp appeared. The grey sniper had been chattering about all the things that had happened since Ironhide had brought Skywarp back to his quarters. The older Autobot was allowing the words to wash over him, adding the odd response when Bluestreak paused.

Skywarp entered hesitantly, darting glances between the two Autobots, and taking a seat on a chair as far away as possible. Ironhide smothered a sigh. Skywarp was obviously going to take some time to warm up to the idea of Bluestreak being in his quarters.

“Hi Skywarp, how are you? I’ve been wanting to come and see you and 'Hide for ages, but it's been really busy with all the construction work. We’re building lots of new housing blocks at the moment because there are lots of mechs coming from off-world. They are mostly neutral I think. I’d not met a neutral before and I thought they would all be pacifists, or functionists, but they all just seem like regular mechs to me. I don’t think they think much of us though, I mean Autobots or Decepticons. I guess I can understand it, well, sort of, but I don't really see why, after all they haven't done anything to help repair Cybertron have they?” Bluestreak paused, and Skywarp just stared at him in confusion. “Anyway that's all boring political stuff, people like Prowl and Ultra Magnus are really into it though, and Jazz too, but he doesn't seem to take it as seriously as those two. Jazz is pretty cool to hang out with when he has time, he kind of likes games, like me, but he’s more into his music and dancing, I think I prefer games though. Do you like games? Teletraan has loads of ones from Earth, they are pretty good actually. Wheeljack makes controllers to let us play them more easily in his spare time. Do you want to play something with me?”

Skywarp reset his optics. Bluestreak was looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for a response. Ironhide could see the way that Skywarp had started huddling in on himself defensively. Bluestreak could see it as well and sat back looking slightly disappointed.

“Blue, why don’t ya show Skywarp some o’ th’ games an’ ah’ll get ya both some energon. Ya got ya supplements with ya?” Ironhide stood as he spoke, moving towards the dispenser.

“Yeah I’ve got them, they don’t taste too bad actually, Blurr says his are great because they are really sweet, but Roddy hates his and keeps not taking them so Ratchet gets mad at him.” Bluestreak handed Ironhide the packet from his subspace and turned back to Skywarp. “Why don’t you sit here with me and we can look at the games.”

Ironhide watched from the corner of his optics as Skywarp moved to the very edge of the couch, optics trained on Bluestreak. Ironhide just hoped that Bluestreak’s open and friendly nature would help Skywarp relax. He collected the cubes and added supplements to each of them, bringing them back to the table. He slid them across the surface to the two younger mechs and settled himself in one of the chairs. 

Bluestreak kept talking away, about the games available and how good he thought they were, and how other mechs liked them. Skywarp was still closed off, keeping his arms and servos tucked in and wings lowered. Bluestreak was being friendly and asking lots of questions, trying to draw Skywarp out, but the seeker was silent. Ironhide made a mental note to speak to Wheeljack and Ratchet. The silence could be nervousness, but could also be a sign of Skywarp’s issues processing Cybertronian Standard.

“Why don’t we try one of the racing games?” Bluestreak asked, sipping at his cube. “I’ve got two controllers and racing games are a lot of fun.”

“‘K.” Skywarp’s response was quiet, but at least it was verbal, and Ironhide relaxed slightly. The young seeker had barely touched his cube and was still perching on the edge of the seat with his field tucked in tight. 

“Ya both need ta finish ya cubes before ya start,” Ironhide warned. “Ah know what ya get like when ya start playin’ Blue.” Bluestreak huffed a good natured laugh and drank more of his cube. 

Skywarp glanced towards Ironhide, who simply gave him a meaningful look and pointed towards his still mostly full cube. Skywarp dropped his optics back to his energon, shoulders hunched.

“I’ll set the console up.” offered Bluestreak, tipping back the rest of his cube and dispersing it with a squeeze. “I’ll need to hook the controllers into the system, and I’ll get the game open and then I can show you how to play. We’ve got some leaderboards set up so you can measure how well you are doing against everyone else.”

“Ya do that Blue’, ah’m going ta git mah data pad.” Ironhide stood, walking behind the couch, and laying a hand on Skywarp’s shoulder, causing the young seeker to flinch slightly. “Ya need ta finish ya cube, kid.” He patted the black shoulder gently before heading for his room. Looking back from the doorway, Ironhide could see that Skywarp had turned his attention back to Bluestreak, his posture still closed off and defensive.

Bluestreak finished fiddling with the console and sat back down, fishing two mech sized controllers from his subspace, he handed one wordlessly to Skywarp, and turned the other on.

“There’s a switch on the side,” he instructed. “If you turn it on it should link to mine automatically, and to the console.” Skywarp did as instructed, flicking the switch on. The device flicked through a boot up sequence and little lights came on over its surface. Skywarp glanced down at it as Bluestreak opened the game, turning it over in his servos.

“OK I’ve got the game up.” announced Bluestreak, and launched into an explanation of how to play, and how to use the controls. Skywarp just stared at him, wings held low.

**************************************************************

Four jours later and Skywarp had warmed up to Bluestreak enough that his wings were held at a more normal position and he had relaxed and was playing the game with enthusiasm, and quite a bit of frustration. Bluestreak had clearly been playing the game much longer than the seeker and was much better at it. He was reasonably gracious about it however, and was certainly not gloating as much as some of the other young Autobots would.

Ironhide allowed them to get on with it. Skywarp’s frustration was not overt enough to merit any intervention or suggestion that the two try another game. The seeker was still quiet, allowing his aggravation to show in flicks of his wings and irritated clicks rather than words.

The current race finished with Bluestreak’s car coming in just ahead of Skywarp’s and the seeker slumped back into the couch padding with a little growl. Bluestreak glanced over at him.

“Shall we play something else, we’ve got lots of different types of games. There’s shooters, or ones with swords where we can go and hunt down enemies and fight through dungeons and some where we can try to build things, or blow them up if we like. I think there are some puzzle games as well if you prefer them. What do you want to try?”

Skywarp was silent as Bluestreak pulled up the menu displaying all the games that Teletraan had on file.

“This one is quite fun, we can play together or separately, or with anyone else who is playing at the same time. It's quite easy, and we’ve designed a mod to let us make Cybertronian avatars which are pretty cool. The graphics look really pixelated, but you get used to it really quickly. It's got monsters too and you have to fight them sometimes, so it is not just building things.”

“'K.” Skywarp’s affirmative was quiet, and looking over at him Ironhide was not entirely sure whether he was agreeing to play the game, or had provided an answer at random in response to an obvious question.

Bluestreak chattered on, explaining the buttons and how to play and create the avatar, but Ironhide noticed that a lot of Skywarp's activity in the game was linked to trial and error. It was possible that the seeker was tuning Bluestreak out because he wanted to learn to play himself, but he seemed to be trying to follow Bluestreak’s directions at least part of the time. He kept stealing glances at which buttons Bluestreak was using to direct his avatar.

The two settled in to play relatively calmly, building some sort of large, blocky structure with lots of intricate touches. The game seemed to use a simple, logic based interface to allow things to move, or happen when switches or buttons were pressed, and Skywarp was designing some intricate systems to fire weapons and catapult enemies away from the structure.

Both young mechs were quieter, and more focused, for this game. Wings and doorwings twitched and Skywarp made occasional trills of concentration. Ironhide was pleased that the seeker was getting on so well with the young Praxian. Ratchet still wanted Skywarp to get magnet therapy, and for now it looked like Bluestreak would be the best choice.

Ironhide left them to their game, concentrating on his own data pad. Red Alert had sent him details of the proposed trip back to the Nemesis, and the security measures he felt were necessary, in preparation for the meeting scheduled for the next cycle. Ironhide was trying to come up with a good argument against the more rigorous ones. Red Alert would not accept something as simple as 'it will upset Skywarp and make him less keen to trust us.’


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are yet more revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: It might be A flat...I'm not very musical!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this fic so far. There is more to come and plenty of twists and turns!

Thundercracker was sulking. He wouldn't accept that as a description of his behaviour, but he was hiding in his room like a scolded youngling, totally not pouting. He sat on his berth, with his data pad in his lap, carefully inscribing the occasional glyph into the open file.

Internally, he was simmering that Prowl thought he could order one of Megatron's elite troops around. Thundercracker would not take orders from an Autobot. He sipped his cube, made a face at the taste, and put it down on the table by his berth, then he turned his attention back to the data pad.

There was a knock at the door, and it slid open while Thundercracker scrambled to hide his data pad, revealing Prowl. The Praxian was as impassive as ever, but his doors were held somewhat higher than normal. If the mech had been a seeker, Thundercracker would have said he was irritated.

“Have you finished your cube?”

Thundercracker snorted inelegantly, picking up his mostly full cube and taking a small sip. He put it back down carefully and starred challengingly at Prowl, daring the Autobot to comment.

“I’m not entirely clear what you think behaving like a stroppy youngling will accomplish, but by all means continue if you think it will help.” Prowl didn’t smile at the insulted expression plastered across Thundercracker’s features, but his doors twitched in amusement. Thundercracker growled, aware he was being mocked, and Prowl gave him a stern look. “Finish your cube, then we can use the wash racks.”

Thundercracker picked the cube up with bad grace. He didn’t understand why Prowl made him react this way. He had been belittled by far bigger and nastier mechs than the tactician, but none had made him behave like this. A trickle of fear tripped its way down his backstruts. He had come out of recharge feeling out of sorts. Had the Autobots somehow given him a virus? His recharge had been disturbed by troubled fluxes for several cycles.

Prowl just stood watching patiently as the seeker sipped his cube. Thundercracker was being deliberately difficult. Prowl privately theorised that the young mech was reacting to the previous cycle’s sudden activation of his dormant protocols.

Eventually the seeker finished his energon. He had managed to make it last the best part of a jour, trying to test Prowl’s patience to its limit. Prowl had refused to react, simply standing in the open doorway and watching Thundercracker take tiny sips from the cube. He prided himself that he was much better at this game than a sulky youngling.

“Are you ready to come to the wash racks now?” He enquired mildly. “Ratchet has advised me that, if I need to use the stasis generators and drag you in, it is unlikely to do you much harm.” He cocked his helm at the younger mech. “I strongly doubt that you want me to do that.” 

Thundercracker growled, engines revving. The damper suppressing his sonics made an unpleasant grinding noise. Prowl quickly pinged Ratchet a reminder to take a look at both the damper and Thundercracker’s thruster turbines during the seeker’s next check-up.

Thundercracker stood with bad grace when his posturing got him nowhere. He was not about to allow Prowl to drag him to the wash racks and do whatever he liked. He would fight, but to be able to fight he needed to be free to move.

Prowl shepherded the blue seeker to the wash racks, ignoring his baleful expression. He didn't really want to humiliate the young mech by dragging him around while he was unable to fight back because of the stasis generators, but he was not willing to let him get away with being deliberately difficult.

******************************************************************************

Bluestreak and Skywarp were still playing when Ironhide set his data pad down. He wasn’t about to allow them to continue with their game while they drank their energon, although he knew that Bluestreak in particular would probably whine and plead to be allowed to carry on.

“Ok, ya need ta save ya game and shut it down. Ah’m goin’ ta get some energon an’ th’ game needs ta be off by then.” Bluestreak made a little mouse noise of disappointment, and looked up at Ironhide pleadingly, but Skywarp began obediently saving the game and shutting it down. Bluestreak turned back to the console and whined again, but Ironhide patted his shoulder. “We can watch somthin’ while we have th’ energon instead.”

“Fine.” Bluestreak was petulant, pouting exaggeratedly. “Can we choose what to watch?” Ironhide tweaked his doorwing, smiling at both mechs.

“Yeah, why don’t ya start on that while ah go ta th’ dispenser?”

“Ok.” Bluestreak was all smiles again, turning to Skywarp who was watching the little by-play impassively. “Can you get the menu up, do you prefer Earth stuff or stuff from Cybertron? Teletraan has more programmes from Earth, but a lot of mechs don’t get them because they are obviously made for the squishies.” Ironhide gave a little warning growl, causing Skywarp to jerk away, but Bluestreak blithely carried on. “Prime doesn't like us calling humans squishies, and Ironhide and Prowl and Jazz get very cross if we do, but lots of mechs call them that.” He broke off with a squeak of pain as Ironhide pinched the closest doorwing, frowning at the grey mech.

“An’ Ironhide will not tolerate ya usin’ tha’ phrase in his quarters.” Bluestreak’s doorwings dropped and he hung his helm with a muttered “Sorry”. Ironhide turned to Skywarp who had shuffled away. “You can pick what we watch. You…” he turned to Bluestreak “can help me wi’ th’ energon!”

Bluestreak got up with bad grace, stomping his way to the dispenser. Ironhide smiled reassuringly at Skywarp and followed Bluestreak. The seeker hurriedly turned to the console flicking through the options, trying to find something he recognised. He’d not seen any of the Cybertronian media on offer before. Such things had not been available in the military bases used by the Decepticons, and if he had seen any before the war he had been too young to remember it. He picked something at random as Ironhide came back to the table with two cubes.

Ironhide sat beside Skywarp, who had perched on the edge of the seat again, and handed him one of the cubes. Bluestreak sat at the other end of the couch, still pouting, and clutching his own energon. Ironhide stretched out one arm and tugged Bluestreak in to cuddle into his side.

“Stop sulkin’ Blue’, ya know ya can’t use words like tha’ 'bout th’ humans.” He hugged the Praxian, stroking his shoulder and turning his head to nuzzle Bluestreak's helm. Bluestreak sighed and curled in closer.

“I'm sorry 'Hide.”

“S’ok, jus’ don't let me hear ya sayin’ tha’ again.” He turned his helm to look at Skywarp, who was studiously ignoring them, sipping his energon mechanically. Ironhide pulled gently on the seekers arm, encouraging him to lean against his other side. The black mechs field felt oddly stressed, not frightened exactly, but definitely tense and unhappy. “Ya ok?” he asked gently, running a servo down the closest arm.

Skywarp made a little noise of agreement, plating slicked down tightly, but he didn’t pull away. Ironhide opted to pick his own cube up, sipping it calmly and turning his attention to the screen. Skywarp had chosen a thriller from back on Cybertron. The protagonist was a low ranking enforcer, pitting his wits against a shadowy criminal gang. Ironhide had never really thought about it before, but he noted that the evil and poorly educated gang members were all depicted as speaking with heavy Kaonite and Tarnian accents, while the noble and upstanding enforcers were clearly Iaconian. 

Ironhide remembered that the mech who had played the main character had joined the Decepticons shortly after the war had started. He had made a number of propaganda films on behalf of Megatron. 

Bluestreak finished his cube and snuggled more firmly against Ironhide who wrapped his arm around the Praxian. Bluestreak hummed, engine purring contentedly, and Ironhide allowed his own engine to rumble gently. Their fields meshed and began to sync with the ease of long familiarity. Skywarp was a quivering gently on Ironhide’s other side, plating clamped tight.

Ironhide wrapped his free arm around Skywarp, still feeling the unhappy field. He gently settled the seeker against him, nuzzling the top of his helm. Skywarp settled into his hold, allowing Ironhide to pet his wing hinges. Skywarp didn't feel frightened, or at least not more frightened than Ironhide had come to think of as normal. He was definitely upset about something, but Ironhide could not tell what the issue was.

Skywarp cuddled in, making himself comfortable and focussing on the screen. Ironhide petted both mechs gently, engine rumbling.

*******************************************************

Ratchet transformed his digit back from the micro-welder he had been using. He had been working on the delicate task of repairing Starscream’s vocaliser, removing the components with the worst damage and replacing them. Some of the damage was far older than Ratchet had expected, but it explained the well known scratchy quality of Starscream's voice. Idly the medic wondered what had caused the damage in the first place. It looked like it had been down to traumatic overuse, probably thanks to Megatron's unkind attention. If the seeker could be persuaded not to stress the repaired components (if he woke up at all) then Ratchet expected his voice to be considerably softer and smoother.

Turning away from Starscream, Ratchet looked over the other inhabitant of the secure medbay. The pale blue seeker was hooked up to a modified ventilator, which was drawing the freezing temperatures away from delicate internal systems and keeping them warm. Mirage and Jazz had done some digging around Shockwave’s record files, those that they had been able to decode at least, and formed a tentative theory that the mech was Icestorm. Acid Storm had refused to provide any confirmation of this, but the records seemed to suggest that this was his trine mate.

The seeker’s systems were running on the low side of acceptable, temperature wise, and Wheeljack had already been looking into creating a damper which would redirect the chill produced by the mech’s systems harmlessly into the atmosphere around him and keep his core temperature up. Until then, the mech would be kept in medical stasis for his own sake.

Sighing, Ratchet turned to one of the empty berths. The third seeker in the trine was due for his own check-up shortly. Ratchet prepared a sedative probe and the berth restraints to receive him, and checked the file of observations he had insisted be compiled about their newest prisoners. This mech had been surprisingly docile, having only just been brought out of stasis, and had submitted to being held in strong stasis cuffs with barely a murmur. Both Acid Storm and Icestorm had kicked up a big fuss, about the cuffs and the medical examination, and fought hard all the way to the medbay.

Leaving the secure medbay, Ratchet locked the door behind him, and waited for the seeker and his escort to arrive. He had received a ping from Red Alert letting him know that they were on their way.

Wheeljack arrived first, carrying a mess of wires and tubing with a small metallic box at the centre. His vocal indicators flashed blue as he looked up at his friend, optics bright with enthusiasm. He had been working hard on creating a method of suppressing the abilities of the trine. Acid Storm had been relatively easy, but the engineer had encountered some unexpected problems with something to keep the other seeker at an acceptable temperature.

“I think I’ve got the heat sink reconfigured now. Hopefully it will warm the cold air coming off our new prisoner’s internals so he won't be walking around in a cloud of freezing fog when the damper is in use.”

“Thanks ‘Jack.” Ratchet smiled at the engineer, “I’m waiting for our third new prisoner right now, I’m told he is on his way. You can work on Icestorm while I take a look at him if you like.” 

“Icestorm?” 

“That's what Jazz thinks he's called. Not that Acid Storm is willing to confirm it.”

“Figures.” Wheeljack snorted, sending a brief burst of orange across his indicators. “Damm seekers are not cooperative at the best of times!”

“Skywarp has been pretty good by all accounts.” Ratchet felt it was his duty to defend the young mechs, “And Dirge hasn’t really given Inferno much trouble.”

“Yeah, but the other three are just difficult,” Wheeljack responded good-naturedly, knowing Ratchet’s protectiveness of old. “I’m not saying they’re bad kids, but you’ve got to admit they are not making it easy for themselves.”

Ratchet shrugged in a non-committal manner. He had been through the argument again with Red Alert about allowing the seekers to fly and wasn’t willing to get worked up again. Fortunately a distraction was provided, by the arrival of the third seeker and his guards into the medbay. The mech was a bright gold colour with white accents and the startlingly pretty face common to his frametype. He was clearly dragging his peds, but his light frame made him easy for the guards to handle.

“Bring him in here.” Ratchet indicated the secure medbay, unlocking the door and allowing the prisoner to be escorted in. The mech balked slightly at the doorway, but was pushed through without much trouble.

Once inside, he glanced around restlessly as he was pushed onto the berth that Ratchet indicated. He made a little noise of worry when he saw the blue and white seekers lying on the other berths and began to struggle, field becoming stressed and optics brightening. Ratchet quickly slid the sedative probe into the medical port at the base of his helm, and the mech began powering down.

By the time the restraints were fastened, the gold seeker was in recharge, and Ratchet dismissed the guards before sliding the berth’s scanning probes into the mechs other medical ports. The readings from mech's systems came back as relatively normal, but Ratchet stiffened when some anomalies started to appear.

The medic pulled up the files of readings taken from Acid Storm, and from Dirge as the youngest of the seekers, and spluttered a harsh burst of irritated static.

Wheeljack looked over from where he was installing the damper into Icestorm’s systems. “Problem?”

“Yeah, I thought we had three adults on our servos, but based on the readings I’m getting, I think this one is another sparkling in an adult frame.”

“Frag!”

“My feelings exactly. I’ll have to perform a spark scan to be sure. Acid Storm needs to start giving us some answers.”

Ratchet turned back to the golden frame lying on the medberth. Another sparkling who would need rehabilitating was a difficult prospect, especially one about whom the Autobots knew nothing. The decisions around which seeker to place with which Autobot had been made carefully based on the intelligence they had about the different personalities involved. The new seeker was an unknown quantity.

Suddenly the scanner started beeping urgently and Ratchet swore viciously.

“What?” Wheeljack was at his elbow in a click, optics scanning the readouts. “Oh frag!”

Ratchet’s digits flew over the keys, checking and re-running the scans again. The results were not encouraging. The mech had a source of high gamma radiation emitting from an area close to his spark. Ratchet rushed to open the seeker’s chestplates, wanting to see the issue with his own optics.

The beeping intensified when the seekers spark chamber was opened. Ratchet’s own passive scanners were screaming about gamma radiation and he realised, in shock, that the source was the golden mech’s own spark. 

“Fraggitall!” Ratchet swore again. “How is he not dead?”

“There seems to be some sort of damper behind his spark chamber.” Wheeljack was taking his own readings. “It looks like it is containing most of the radiation and channeling it away from anything that could be damaged by it.” He checked his readings again. “Frag, without that the kid is a walking nuclear bomb.”

“That's what I’m getting too. I’m also seeing old radiation scarring on his internals, I think the damper is a later addition.” Ratchet growled in annoyance. “What I want to know is what sort of half clocked idiot allowed a young mech with a fragging radioactive spark to run around without a damper installed.”

“He might be the one in the berth behind you, Ratch’,” Wheeljack reminded him absently, absorbed in his own findings. “I’m going to need to look at this damper. I’ve got a feeling that it's going to be set up so that this kid can channel the radiation outwards as a weapon, and we don't want that.”

“No,” Ratchet agreed, busying himself with attaching the scanner to the seekers spark crystal and recalibrating the system to account for the radiation. “I’ll ask Optimus to get someone to talk to Acid Storm again. I bet he knows something about this.”

********************************************************

Acid Storm was mildly surprised to see the Prime outside his cell again. He could not fault the mech for his persistence, although his intelligence was clearly not up to much. 

“Move back from the bars.” Acid Storm cocked his helm. The mech sounded...angry, the order having been snapped with some force. He didn’t comply immediately, and the order was barked through the speaker again. “Move back. NOW.”

The green mech moved back cautiously and the Prime stomped into the cell, looming over Acid Storm. Something had clearly occurred to annoy the Autobot leader. Acid Storm was actually surprised. He hadn't thought that the big mech had it in him to display that level of anger and wondered what had happened. He wasn't particularly worried about himself. The Prime might give him a beating, but he suspected that the soft sparked Autobot would stop a long way short of killing him. 

Honestly, a beating from the Prime would not even come close to what Megatron and Shockwave had done in the past.

Of course, none of this changed the fact that Optimus Prime was now looming over him, or that the mech was really rather intimidating and Acid Storm was alone with him in an enclosed space. The green mech's wings fanned out and he widened his stance unconsciously. Hopefully the Prime would actually let him know what he was upset about before lashing out.

For his part, Optimus was upset that Acid Storm had neglected to warn them about the third mech held in stasis. He was angry that the adult seeker had apparently allowed a sparkling to be placed in such danger. Ratchet was furious, and was trying to establish exactly how old the golden mech was. He had theorised that Acid Storm and Icestorm were the sparkling’s creators, and was horrified that they would place their own sparkling in an adult frame.

The Prime frowned down at the seeker, who cocked his helm to one side and quirked an optic ridge, as though to show that he was unintimidated by the Autobot. He controlled his anger, needing to try to get more information from the mech, not frighten him into silence.

“Ratchet has just finished checking out the third mech we found in stasis with you.” Acid Storm was silent, helm still cocked in a manner the Prime was sure had been calculated to be as insolent as possible. “Why don’t you tell me what you think he found?”

Green wings twitched, and the seeker’s upper lip curled. Optimus hadn’t actually expected a response and had asked the question semi-rhetorically. Acid Storm clearly knew what they had discovered.

“We discovered he is a sparkling. ANOTHER sparkling, who we now need to take care of.” Optimus took an in-vent, controlling his field, which had flicked out in irritation. “You are going to talk to me and you are going to do so now.” Acid Storm’s sneer became more pronounced. “You are going to start by telling me the name of that sparkling.” He reached out as he spoke, gripping a wingtip and pulling the seeker towards him.

Acid Storm attempted to twist out of his grip, but Optimus followed the movement, pushing the seeker to sit on the cell's berth and standing over him, arms folded.

“Well?”

“Why should I tell you?” Acid Storm crossed his own arms, anger making him respond. The Prime noted absently that the seeker had a cultured voice and spoke Cybertronian Standard with a faint Vosian accent. It was a contrast to the Kaonite accents that marked Thundercracker and Skywarp’s occasional sentences. 

“Because I think you have his best interests at spark. Because I think you want to help him. Because I think you are closer to him that you want to let on and because I think you want to see him again.”

“Ah, a threat.” The sneer was still in place and Acid Storm’s wings twitched again. He was furious, first the Autobots imprisoned them, then they threatened his trine. “Exactly what I would expect from a grounder.”

“You don’t like grounders?” Acid Storm snorted, the sound harsh in the small cell.

“Let me see. Grounders destroyed my home, enslaved my people, stole our sparklings, and condemned them to lives without the sky. No, I’d have to say I don’t like grounders.” He had said too much, he knew, but the words had just burst out.

The Prime looked stricken for a click, and Acid Storm remembered that this mech had become Prime after the start of the war. 

“I am sorry for that.”

“Well, that makes all the difference.” Acid Storm’s smile was entirely fake, and sharp as a knife.

“What is the name of the third mech we got out of stasis?”

“I’m not sure it is in his best interests that I tell you.”

“Give me his name, and we can let you see him.”

Acid Storm’s pretty features twisted into a bitter expression. He wasn’t willing to risk not seeing his youngest trine mate again. He turned his head away from Optimus, looking at the wall. He didn’t want to see his betrayal of his trine reflected in those blue optics.

“Sunstorm, his name is Sunstorm.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Skywarp. He just needs a hug doesn't he.
> 
> For anyone who is interested the seekers are pretty much teenagers in this fic, 17-19ish, all except for Sunstorm who is about 10.
> 
> Thank you CheerfullyMorbid for the brilliant job beta reading, and the questions which actually make me think about the plot of this fic!

By the time the program was finished, Bluestreak's engine was purring in relaxation and his optics were dim. By contrast, Skywarp was tense and his optics over-bright, his engine making an unhappy stuttering noise, and his turbines spinning with a thin whining.

“C’mon kids, time for recharge.” Ironhide began untangling himself from the two young mechs, offering a servo to help them both to their peds. Bluestreak gave a sleepy noise of agreement and allowed Ironhide to hoist him up. Skywarp got up without assistance and turned quickly to his room, closing the door behind himself without a word.

Bluestreak looked up at Ironhide, field reflecting his confusion at the seeker’s behaviour.

“Don’t worry 'bout it Blue’, Skywarp needs some time alone. He’s still pretty jumpy 'bout bein’ in mah quarters an’ everythin’.”

“Is he ok? Because it seems like he doesn't really understand what I’m saying some of the time and he was copying what I was doing when we were playing the game, but when I explained how to do other stuff and he did it he got it wrong a lot.” 

Ironhide gave the young mech a quick hug, touched by his concern, and by the tact shown in not bringing it up in front of Skywarp.

“He’s fine. There's a couple’a issues we need ta look at, but ah’m tryin’ ta wait 'till he trusts me a bit more.” Ironhide smiled down at Bluestreak reassuringly. “Ah’ll check on him in a couple’a clicks.” 

Bluestreak nodded when Ironhide let him go. Gripping the older mech’s forearm, he turned to Ironhide's berthroom, not wanting to get involved in any drama between Ironhide and the seeker. Ironhide let him go, putting his data pad back on the shelf, and straightening the packets of supplements by the dispenser.

Finally, he turned and crossed to Skywarp's door. There was silence from the room beyond, but that didn't mean anything. Ironhide tapped gently and waited to see if the seeker would respond. There was more silence, so Ironhide carefully opened the door. Skywarp was not on his berth, not that Ironhide had really expected him to be, but he was also not in the corner he'd been in before.

“Skywarp, ya ok?” he called softly. There was a tiny sound from behind the desk and Ironhide's spirits sank. It sounded like a stifled sob. Ironhide had hoped to avoid any emotional drama from the young seeker, but there was clearly an issue and Ironhide was not one to allow it to fester.

He carefully moved around the desk, blinking at the surprisingly small space that Skywarp had wedged himself into. The young mech was looking up at him, wings and shoulders shaking. Ironhide wordlessly reached down, helping Skywarp out, and tugging him to his peds. Skywarp wrapped his arms around his cockpit and wouldn't look up at his caretaker as Ironhide pulled him towards the berth.

“Ya goin’ ta tell me wha’ th’ problem is this time?” Ironhide enquired when he had got them both seated on the berth. “Ya know ah’d prefer ya ta talk rather than gettin’ all upset like this.” Skywarp whined gently, hunching his shoulders. His field was full of anger, disappointment and embarrassment. Ironhide gently turned the seekers face up towards his own.

“Ya want ta tell me what's wrong?” In response Skywarp pulled away, staring down at his knees. Ironhide put one servo on his cheek, digits stroking the arch under his optics. Skywarp's lipplates were pulled down and he refused to look at Ironhide. “Come on kiddo, ah can't help if ya won't talk, we’ve been over this before.”

“S’nothing.”

“Not gonna’ work. It's clearly somethin’, ya wouldn't be curled up an’ hiding under th’ desk if it was nothin’. So ah'll ask again, what's wrong?”

“S’nothing!” The denial was delivered slightly more petulantly, and Ironhide pinched a black wing in reproof.

“Ah don't like bein’ lied to!”

“S’nothing.” Skywarp crossed his servos over his cockpit, and jerked himself out of Ironhide's grip. Despite his defiance the anger in his field was rapidly becoming fear again, and the embarrassment was more acute than it had been.

“Skywarp.” Ironhide gentled his own tone and pushed calm into his field, not wanting the young seeker to start pulling away more. “Ah want ta help. Somethin’ has got ya wound up tight an’ ah need ta know what it was. Now, is it somethin’ ta do wi’ Bluestreak bein’ here? Did he say somethin’, or do somethin’ ta upset ya?”

Skywarp kept the defiant posture, but his field was uncertain, and he allowed Ironhide to loop an arm around him. 

“Can’t 'splain it.” He said eventually, embarrassment clear in his voice.

“Can’t - or won't?” Ironhide knew he was pushing, but he needed answers.

There was a longer pause, then Skywarp muttered “Can’t.” It was so soft Ironhide barely caught it and he hugged the seeker a bit tighter as his engines began to whine.

“Is it because ya don’t understand everythin’ Blue’ says?” Ironhide's voice was gentle and he rubbed soothing circles across Skywarp's back plating. In response to his words the black plating clamped tight and Skywarp went rigid. Ironhide controlled his field, not wanting the surge of triumph he felt at the admission to carry to the young seeker.

“No!” Skywarp snapped the word with more force than Ironhide had heard him use before. “I understand!” His field was angry again, but the embarrassment was still simmering under the surface. He pulled away again and Ironhide let him go. 

“If that’s not it then wha’s th’ problem? Did Blue’ say somethin’ that made ya unhappy?”

“No.” Ironhide sighed, Skywarp was curled in on himself again, closing himself off from Ironhide. 

“So wha’s th’ problem?”

“S’nothing.”

“Ya don't hafta tell me ya know, but ya need ta talk ta someone. Ah can get Ratch’ or th’ Prahm ta come over next cycle if ya prefer.”

“No.” The reply was muttered sullenly and Skywarp was scowling. It was the most animated Ironhide had seen the younger mech.

“So ya prefer ta talk ta me then?”

“No!”

“So who d’ya want ta talk ta?”

Skywarp mumbled something too softly for Ironhide to hear, but his optics flashed with defiance. Ironhide kept up a steady calming rumble of his engine, hoping to relax the seeker. Skywarp’s thrusters were still emitting a thin whine which Ironhide was coming to recognise as a sign that the seeker was overwrought.

“Ah’m goin’ ta tell ya what ah think th’ problem is.” Ironhide decided to try another tack to reach Skywarp. “Ah think ya language skills are not as good as ya want us ta think.” He watched Skywarp’s wings shoot up, and heard the sharp in-vent, before Skywarp scrabbled off the berth and backed off, growling warningly.

“Not reprogramming me!”

“Ah didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout that.” Ironhide diverted several processor threads to the problem. Suddenly Skywarp’s outburst with Ratchet in the medbay came into focus. The medic had clearly told the seeker he suspected that there was some language programming missing and Skywarp had jumped to the worst conclusion. It made him wonder what sort of experiences the young seeker had had while serving with the Decepticons. Ratchet had mentioned the fear all the seekers had exhibited when in the medbay for the first time.

“NOT reprogramming me!” Skywarp’s voice rose and Ironhide could hear the panic under the anger. His claws clicked into place, and the note of his thrusters became more frantic. Ironhide frowned, and Skywarp backed off further, growling more. The chances of Skywarp calming down naturally were decreasing rapidly. More radical intervention was looking necessary. Ironhide opted to try to de-escalate things again.

“Ya need ta calm down. Ah don’t want ta hav’ta use the stasis generators but ah will.” Skywarp’s growling became louder and his plating was clamped tight. “Skywarp, Ah’m warning ya. Calm down.” The sound of thrusters got louder, and there was an unpleasant grinding noise as the inhibitor forced the spinning turbines to slow. “Skywarp! Ah mean it!”

Ironhide gave the seeker a few more clicks hoping his warning had had an effect, but he was too far gone, caught in the grip of his battle protocols. Wincing, Ironhide activated the stasis generators, darting forward as Skywarp crumpled to the floor. The young mech continued to growl as Ironhide lifted him and arranged him on the berth. 

“Ah’m goin’ ta leave ya alone fer a few clicks ta calm down. He warned, gently draping Skywarp’s blanket over the prone frame. “Ah’ll release th’ stasis field when ya retract ya claws an’ stop growlin’ at meh.” He walked to the door glancing back at the young mech on the berth. Skywarp still looked angry, and his denta were bared. Ironhide opened the door and stepped into the main room. He hoped it would only take a few clicks.

Shutting the door behind him Ironhide rubbed his helm ruefully. It was only the second time he had had to use the stasis field on Skywarp. Hoist had reported having to activate Ramjet’s generators almost every cycle to prevent the seeker harming himself. Kup, too, had been forced to use the stasis generators on Thrust more than once, but Skywarp had been exceptionally well behaved so far.

Ironhide was worried about Skywarp’s mental state when the stasis field was deactivated. Chances were high that the young seeker would be frightened and stressed. Ironhide worried that the situation would set the fragile trust he had been developing with the mech back. The problem was that he could not see any way he could have handled it differently. All that remained was to reassure the seeker that no harm would come to him.

Energon might help, it had proved a good way to get through to the young mech in the past, so he moved to the dispenser, drawing a small cube and adding a generous scoop of Skywarp’s evening supplements. The unopened packet of rust sticks that Ratchet had given Skywarp were also sat by the dispenser so Ironhide took them as well. Treats were probably a good way to reassure the young mech.

Cube in hand he opened Skywarp’s door again. The seeker hadn’t wriggled off the berth in his anger, and Ironhide could hear the soft hitching of vents. His spark went out to the young mech, his anger had obviously cooled quickly and, as Ironhide had feared, he was clearly upset.

“Ah’m goin’ ta turn the generators off now,” Ironhide said, looking down at Skywarp’s over bright optics as he put the cube and rust sticks down on the desk. He put one servo on the closest black wing stroking soothingly, feeling the expected mix of fear and unhappiness in Skywarp’s field.

Skywarp immediately began scrambling away when the field was turned off, trying to put as much distance between himself and Ironhide as possible. Ironhide kept a servo on his wing, feeling it twitch and tremble. 

“Ah’ve got another cube here for ya, an’ ya rust sticks. Ah’m goin’ ta stay wi’ ya ‘till ya finish it.”

Skywarp just watched him warily and Ironhide gave a tired ex-vent. It was clearly going to be a long night.

******************************************************************

As Ironhide had expected, Skywarp was a nervous, twitchy mess by the time he persuaded him to drink his cube and nibble a rust stick. The way the seeker’s vents were hitching, Ironhide suspected that he would curl up in a corner, or back under the desk, as soon as he left the room, and that the young mech would not get any recharge.

Weighing up the options, Ironhide gently led Skywarp to his own room. The seeker backed up when it became obvious where Ironhide was taking him.

“Ah don’t think ya’ll get any recharge if ya stay in ya room so ah’m goin’ ta have ya recharge wi’ me an’ 'Blue.”

“Please.” Skywarp looked terrified, optics almost white with the stress, and Ironhide turned to face him.

“Jus’ for this cycle, an’ jus’ ta recharge kid, ah promise. If ah leave ya ah can tell ya won't even lie down 'cause ya’re too stressed out.” He patted one quivering shoulder. “If ah’ve got ya wi’ me ah can check ya doin’ ok an’ watch fer bad recharge fluxes.” Skywarp gave another whimper, trying to pull away again, but Ironhide held him firmly. “Skywarp, have ah done anythin’ ta hurt ya?”

There was a pause then, “No...please.”

“Skywarp!” Ironhide gave him a little shake. “Ah’m not goin’ ta hurt ya, but ah’m not goin’ta let ya hurt ya’self, understand?”

Skywarp's ventilations were hitching and ragged, so Ironhide pulled the younger mech in for a tight hug. With their close proximity he could hear the sub-vocal whimpers that the seeker was making. He murmured gentle words of reassurance, stroking across black plating, engine purring.

Pulling away Ironhide carefully began leading the seeker towards his berthroom. Skywarp balked at the threshold, but Ironhide urged him inside locking the door behind them.

Skywarp's optics darted everywhere, assessing the threats posed by the room and its occupants. Bluestreak was already curled up on the large berth, taking up a good quarter of the space. Ironhide let go of Skywarp, touching Bluestreak's shoulder to let him know that he was there. Skywarp backed away towards the door, turning to try to open it before Ironhide came up behind him.

“Come on kiddo, ya need ta recharge.” The little negative noise made by the seeker told him exactly what Skywarp thought of that idea, but Ironhide knew he needed to get the mech past his fear. He felt guilty about pushing, but leaving Skywarp to fester with the memories of the past few jours on his own would be worse in the long term.

He tugged one of Skywarp's arms to get him moving towards the berth where Bluestreak was watching them, optics dimmed to a soft glow. Ironhide got onto the berth first, not wanting to cause Skywarp to feel trapped, and firmly pulled the seeker down beside him, getting him settled so his wings were not caught under his torso and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Skywarp's field was frightened and he shook hard, servos crossed protectively over his cockpit. Bluestreak reached across Ironhide's torso and curled his digits around the seekers closest servo, his own field was calm and relaxed.

“It's ok, 'Hide is really good to recharge with, he’s just warm enough and doesn't move around too much.” He gave Skywarp's servo a light squeeze and snuggled against Ironhide's side with a happy little noise.

Ironhide lay on his back, holding Skywarp tightly as the young mech squirmed. Bluestreak tightened his grip on the seeker’s servo and Skywarp went still. Sending a command to turn off the lights, Ironhide watched as the bright glow of Skywarp’s optics dimmed to a more normal crimson. He still gave the occasional wriggle, testing Ironhide’s grip, but the supplements did their job and he began to slip into recharge. Ironhide wasn’t sure how long, or how well, the kid would actually recharge, but he initiated a high level shutdown which would allow him to boot quickly if there were any issues.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been threatening for a while, but the nightmares have started. 
> 
> I'm just surprised it hasn't happened before!
> 
> Thankyou CheerfullyMorbid for the beta, and the advice. As always it is invaluable!

Thundercracker was, for once, in a recharge deep enough to allow his processor to defrag. He didn’t usually allow it, but his self repair system had taken over and forced him under. His engine hummed gently, and his field was relaxed.

Prowl stood at the doorway of Thundercracker’s room, watching the young seeker. He wasn’t sure whether the mech would wake if he came further into the room. Prowl had opened the door to check on the seeker before he went to his own berth. He had been working hard and had lost track of time. Usually he would have gone for recharge earlier, much earlier, but Optimus had asked him to review the plans for the trip back to the Nemesis and he had spent much longer than he had intended to at his desk.

Thundercracker looked peaceful in recharge and Prowl could almost forget how exasperating the young mech had been while awake. The seeker had done everything he could to make their trip through the wash racks subtly aggravating, always moving or twitching at the wrong moment so his joint was at the wrong angle to be properly cleaned. Prowl had controlled his emotions so Thundercracker had got no reward for his poor behavior, but he had been seething internally.

Thundercracker’s behavior had, in part, been the reason that Prowl spent so long at his desk. Working out his frustrations on a datapad had been the best option. Certainly better than snapping at the young seeker and risking him withdrawing again. He was being difficult, true, but it was better than having him hiding in his room, refusing all interaction.

Prowl was about to shut the door when he noted that Thundercracker’s wings were twitching slightly. The movements seemed agitated and Prowl crossed the threshold into the room. Thundercracker’s field had changed as well, there was fear there, and the memory of pain. Prowl moved to the berth, hearing the young seeker whimper quietly. Prowl recognised the sign of a bad recharge flux and extended his own field, trying to provide reassurance.

The fear intensified. Thundercracker was deeper in recharge that Prowl had originally thought and he was struggling to escape the flux. Prowl reached out, touching one of the fluttering wings, calming and soothing.

“Thundercracker.” Prowl wanted to pull the seeker out of the flux gently and to prevent the inevitable panic that would ensue. “Thundercracker, you’re alright, it’s just a recharge flux. You’re in no danger.” 

He could feel the seeker starting to re-boot, and kept up a litany of soothing words as the whimpering and distressed chirps got louder. Prowl pulled Thundercracker up into a sitting position as he booted up further, optics online, but uncomprehending. The seeker struggled, but Prowl wrapped his arms around the younger mech, flaring his field with a sense of safety and comfort.

Thundercracker buried his face in the crook of Prowl’s neck, still whimpering as his boot sequence completed. Prowl petted and stroked, the situation familiar from nights spent comforting Jazz when the saboteur had a bad flux.

“You’re alright, you’re safe.”

Thundercracker’s wings went rigid and his plating clamped tight as his memories downloaded. He tried to pull away from Prowl’s hold. The Praxian held on, feeling the way Thundercracker's vents were hitching as he suppressed the distressed noises he had been making. Prowl continued to croon words of comfort as Thundercracker's field flooded first with shame, then embarrassment and anger in quick succession.

When Thundercracker started half-sparkedly growling, Prowl allowed him to pull away, but kept a firm grip on the seeker’s servos. Anger flashed in Thundercracker's optics, but it was tinged with lingering fear, and old shame. Prowl stroked the delicate wrist joints a few times before letting go and Thundercracker pulled his servos away, crossing them over his cockpit and refusing to meet Prowl's optics.

“Bad recharge flux?” asked Prowl mildly, as if it was not obvious. “Come into the other room and I’ll get you some energon.” He stood as he spoke, offering Thundercracker his servo. The seeker looked down at it, field still fluctuating, but he took it, allowing Prowl to assist him off the berth. 

Prowl controlled his own field ruthlessly, not allowing a single hint of his triumph at Thundercracker’s easy capitulation to escape. The seeker was clearly still disoriented from the flux and needed comfort from another mech. Prowl intended to capitalise on the situation as far as possible. He was unlikely to get a better opportunity to work on the young mech.

Reaching the dispenser, Prowl drew a small cube, and added a scoop of iron flakes. Most mechs were known to find the sweetness of iron reassuring and relaxing. Prowl himself had frequently been told by Ratchet to take iron supplements with his last cube of the cycle as the medic worked to make the Autobot second in command relax and recharge more.

Gently taking Thundercracker’s servo, Prowl encouraged him to sit on the couch. He was still shaking, plating slicked down and core temperature slightly elevated. Prowl handed him the cube and settled in beside him, stroking his wing hinges. The energon in the cube shimmered in response to the trembling of Thundercracker's servos. The young seeker clearly didn't want to accept Prowl’s offer of comfort, but equally could not seem to pull away.

“Drink up.” Prowl tapped the cube gently and Thundercracker flinched, disturbed from an internal reverie by the movement. He tipped it to his mouth, allowing the sweet energon into his tanks without the now-customary test for unpleasant additives. Prowl chalked up another victory. He suspected it wouldn't last long. Thundercracker had proved reluctant to remain compliant for long, and tended to bounce back angry.

The sweet energon was doing its job and helping the blue seeker calm. His shivering had slowed to a barely noticeable tremble, and his wings were held at a more natural angle. Red optics had dimmed, but when Prowl attempted to get Thundercracker moving back towards his room, the seeker’s field flared with unexpected fear.

“What's wrong?” Prowl's battle computer crunched the probability of Thundercracker being fearful of something physically in his room and came up with a very low percentage. Higher was the likelihood that the seeker didn't want to go back to recharge. Prowl’s computer helpfully showed him that the highest probability was that Thundercracker didn't want to recharge alone in case he had another flux.

“Come on, I’ll stay with you for a bit while you go back into recharge.”

The seeker’s field was a conflicted mess of need, want, fear and embarrassment.

He didn’t want Prowl to see him in such a vulnerable and needy position, but equally the thought of being alone with the lingering images from the flux frightened him. He could remember all too clearly other cycles spent with no trinemates and no-one to hold him, before he woke and the flux again became the waking nightmare that was Shockwave’s lab.

***************************************************************

As Ironhide had anticipated, Skywarp had begun twitching and mumbling with a nasty recharge flux within a jour of finally dropping into recharge. He held the seeker close, field supporting and soothing. At this point in his functioning the reaction was almost hard coded. Many cycles spent caring for traumatised young mechs in the middle of a civil war which had torn their planet apart meant he had more than his fair share of experience.

Having to act as a general who sent a number of those young mechs to their deactivation meant he had had plenty of bad fluxes of his own to contend with.

Beside him Bluestreak shifted, twisting to reach a servo out to the seeker, whose field lashed at them with the oddly prickly sensation of remembered pain. Skywarp clawed at the berth padding, arching away from Ironhide’s chassis, wings rattling against the berth frame with the force of the seeker’s shaking.

“Skywarp!” Ironhide grasped both black servos in his own, carefully keeping the razor sharp claws away from both the berth and his own plating. He felt the seeker’s awareness shift as his higher processor functions began to boot up, and the muttering became more coherent, changing to a litany of begging and declarations of pain.

Skywarp’s optics on-lined and he pulled away sharply, almost falling from the berth, but Ironhide caught him, pulling him close again and petting his helm.

The flux had started with the sense-memory of being pulled down a corridor by one wing, the cramped, claustrophobic feeling of being ten floors underground with a suffocating mass of metal above him, and the wincing brightness as his optical sensors struggled to adjust to the overbright lighting after three cycles spent in the dark.

There was the sick feeling of disabled software somewhere deep within his processor, and the vertigo caused by his inability to map his surroundings. Up was reading as down, while down was sitting at ninety degrees to where his gyroscope insisted it should be.

He wanted to scream, to beg, to apologise, to promise he would behave better, but his comms were out and his volcailser was offline and everything hurt, but he was sorry, sorry, sorry. He was trying to pull away, to twist out of the cruel hold, but the grip on his wing was too strong and he was stumbling and nearly falling.

The big shape marching him through the corridor jerked him to a halt, causing him to trip over his own peds, before he was jerked through a doorway into a big bright space. He clawed frantically at the shape as he was slammed on his back onto a berth and strapped down with callous efficiency. Squinting up at the shadow hovering above him, he saw a single yellow optic peering down at him with cool detachment.

He rebooted his optics frantically and suddenly there was a pair of worried blue optics much closer than he expected. Spark racing, he jerked backwards, real vertigo washing over him as he nearly fell from the berth. He was caught and pulled against a broad chassis and then a soothing field was enveloping him and a big servo stroking over his helm.

Ironhide could feel the agitated thrum of the seeker’s spark against his plating, and the heat from his plating as he squirmed. Reluctantly he allowed Skywarp free to slip off the berth. The young mech stood in the middle of the room looking lost and disoriented, wings twitching, refocusing on the two Autobots still on the berth.

Ironhide swung his peds onto the floor as well, standing and pulling Skywarp back into a loose hug.

“S’okay kid. Ya safe, it was jus’ a bad flux.” He felt Skywarp begin to relax, and the seeker’s digits come up to grip his plating. There were tiny pricks in Ironhide’s protofom, Skywarp had not retracted his claws, but Ironhide didn’t protest. That the seeker trusted him enough to allow himself to be held while feeling so vulnerable was a big step forward. Caressing the broad wings, Ironhide set a ping to remind himself to contact Prowl in the morning to get him to bring Thundercracker over the next cycle.

*********************************************************************

Sunstorm rebooted slowly, processor aching and wing hinges sore from a long period spent lying on his back. Out of habit he kept his optics offline, not wanting to allow his captors to know he was awake, but a servo suddenly landed on his wing. Golden optics booted quickly and the seeker peered up at the figure standing over him. 

An Autobot medic, if the chevron and decals on his armour were anything to go by. He controlled his fear. This was not Shockwave’s medbay, this medic hadn’t done anything to hurt him yet. Maybe he wouldn’t if Sunstorm was good. 

Sunstorm squinted up at him against the harsh lights, trying to bring a servo up to shield his optics. He realised, with a flash of fear, that his servos and peds were restrained with thick straps, pinning him to the berth in a very uncomfortable position. He remembered similar times, when the mech above him had been bigger, and a purple servo had reached down to disconnect his vocaliser because: “Your infantile prattle serves no purpose, and is distracting me.”

His systems pinged back that his comms, thrusters and weapon systems had all been taken offline, probably by the medic. He could also feel a change to the damper behind his spark, it felt...heavier somehow. Attempting to access and redirect the radiation channeled by the damper, he came up against another block. His trine bond was still accessible, and he could feel the muted presence of his two trine mates. Neither seemed to be in distress, and both were coming back as being online. He wasn’t going to panic, he promised himself. He could take a little pain.

“How are you feeling?” The medic’s servo was still on his wing, rubbing little circles across the metal. Sunstorm considered the question for a moment. The touch was disconcerting. Only his trine mates usually touched him like this, medics normally just grabbed and disconnected things.

“Sore,” he responded slowly. “Where am I?” The medic was smiling broadly, although a little shadow passed across his face when he mentioned the soreness. Sunstorm was puzzled. Who was this mech? “Who are you?”

“I’m Ratchet, I’m a medic, you are in the Autobot’s main base on Cybertron. Where are you feeling sore?”

“Um, my wings. I don’t like lying on them, the hinges get pinched.” He squinted up at Ratchet again. “Can I get up? I’ll be good, I promise.” It was at least worth a try.

“I’ll take the restraints off your arms and torso so you can sit up, and I’ll get you some pillows to rest against, that should stop them being so sore.”

“Thank you.” Sunstorm gave a shy smile up at the Autobot. On a very short acquaintance, Ratchet was a lot gentler than Shockwave, or any of the Decepticon medics. Shockwave had never allowed him to have pillows when he was restrained on the scientist’s medberth. Shockwave had never rubbed his wings, or let him talk, or sit up when he wasn’t being worked on. 

He controlled his fear as it rose when he thought about Shockwave. He didn’t like medics, and he didn’t like medbays, but Ratchet hadn’t hurt him...yet. Ratchet gave his wing a final pat and left the room. Sunstorm turned his helm, trying to scope out the space. The berth on one side was empty, but Sunstorm knew it had held his oldest trine mate when he had come into the medbay. He checked the bond again. Icestorm was definitely online, and angry, but not in pain.

The berth on his other side contained another seeker, clearly offline and hooked up to a large number of monitors. He was partially covered by a thermal blanket, but Sunstorm knew the Decepticon Air Commander anywhere. He worshiped the older seeker, who was graceful, sophisticated and strong, and who always had a kind word for Sunstorm. Seeing him like this was...worrying, to say the least. Sunstorm wondered what the Autobots had done to him and his fear rose.

Before he could start really panicking, Ratchet returned, smiling gently at him. The medic glanced up at the monitor above Starscream’s berth before beginning to release the restraints keeping Sunstorm on the berth.

“I’m going to bring you into the main medbay. I think you’ll be bored in here, and there are some mechs who will want to talk to you soon.” He finished undoing the restraints and helped Sunstorm sit up and swing his peds off the berth. “If you’re good I’ll give you a treat.” He took Sunstorm’s arm in a firm grip, leading the golden mech into the main medbay and to another berth. This one was piled with pillows, and had a leg restraint at one corner.

Ratchet patted the surface invitingly and Sunstorm swung himself onto it, not protesting when Ratchet fastened the restraint around one of his thrusters.

“Good kid.” Ratchet’s tone was approving as Sunstorm settled himself against the pillows, glancing around with a little bit of trepidation. There was nothing especially threatening in view, although a second medic appeared to be working cleaning some equipment. He tried to relax. Experience had taught him that being frightened, and kicking up a fuss, would result in more time spent restrained on a medberth being ignored.

“Thank you.” It never hurt to be polite to the medics. Sometimes it would earn him less time in the medbay, or some pain relief after Shockwave had finished with him. Ratchet smiled at him again, patting a wing.

“I promised you a treat, didn’t I?” He handed Sunstorm a rust stick, which the seeker looked at in confusion. Ratchet took one for himself and began nibbling it, putting the packet back in his subspace. Sunstorm’s optics widened, and he tentatively put the sweet in his own mouth. His little squeak of surprised pleasure at the flavour sent a little jag into Ratchet’s spark. Sunstorm had obviously never had anything like it before. He resisted the urge to stroke the kid's cheek.

“Thank you.” It was soft, but sincerely delivered.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got things to do, so do you want a couple of data pads, or a puzzle game to keep you occupied?”

“Yes, please. Can I have a data pad to read, please?”

“I’ll go and find you one. I’ve got medical texts, but you probably won’t be interested in them, so I’ll have to fish some fiction pads from my office.” He patted the golden wing again and turned away. 

Sunstorm watched him leave, and looked back at the other medic, who had turned his helm to watch him. The mech wore a face mask, which made Sunstorm a little nervous. He relied on being able to read a mech’s body language and expression, especially when in a medbay.

The medic finished his task and put the tools away, retreating through the door that Ratchet had used, and Sunstorm idly tested the restraint around his ankle joint. Not that he would go anywhere if he managed to remove it, but he preferred to be free to move. He failed to notice Ratchet observing him carefully from the office door. 

The Autobot crossed the medbay with heavy strides and lightly tapped Sunstorm’s servo where it picked restlessly at the chain.

“None of that.” Sunstorm hung his helm looking guilty, and Ratchet gave him a reassuring smile.

“Sorry.”

“You won’t be able to break it, I just prefer you not to risk injuring your servo trying.” This earned him another shy smile. “I’ve got you some energon, and a couple of data pads while you wait. There are some supplements in the energon, but you are in pretty good condition so you won’t need them for long.”

“Thank you.” The words were accompanied by a wider smile which lit the young mech’s whole face. It made Ratchet’s own face crease into a smile just to see it, and he pet the golden helm briefly.

“You drink the cube, and I’ll come by periodically to see how you are doing, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Good kid. You shouldn’t have long to wait.”

Ratchet retreated back to his office, pulling up Sunstorm’s medical file. The spark scan had showed the mech was less than a hundred vorns old, and Ratchet strongly suspected that when he finally got to take a reading from Starscream’s spark he would have found the seeker’s missing sparkling. It set him on edge that a mech could callously abandon his sparkling to a war. Poor Sunstorm seemed to have been treated more like a science experiment than a mech, and Ratchet’s tanks roiled when he thought about the sort of experiments that must have been performed to irradiate the kid's spark so thoroughly.

::Ratchet?::

::Optimus. I take it you want the information about Sunstorm before you come down to talk to him?::

::Yes, please. I’ve tried talking to both Acid Storm and his trinemate but they are still refusing to say anything.::

::I’m not surprised. The kid’s young, he should really still only be in his second frame.::

::That young?::

::Yeah, but the good news is that he is a sweet kid who seems quite happy to talk.::

::Really?::

::I’ve not questioned him, but he has been using full sentences in Standard and hasn’t treated me to any sulky silence. I think he is going to be co-operative.::

::Thank Primus!::

::Who knows, we might actually get some answers.::

::I hope so, Ratchet. I hate feeling that I can’t do anything to help.::

::You and me both!::


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is religion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sunstorm sweetness. He's just so cuuuuuute.
> 
> Also the aftermath of the previous chapter's nightmares. 
> 
> Many many thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading and keeping me on track with this.

Prowl was pulled from his recharge by a ping from Jazz, letting him know that Optimus would soon be speaking with the third seeker in the trine they had pulled from stasis. His chronometer told him that it was later then he would normally awaken, and he felt sluggish from an inadequate recharge cycle.

He had stayed with Thundercracker, holding his servo and speaking calmly, until the blue seeker had fallen back into recharge. Then he had stayed with the young mech for a further two jours, making sure he remained in recharge and showed no signs of further fluxes.

Only when he was sure Thundercracker was recharging peacefully had he sought his own berth. Now, a bare three jours later, he had been awoken. It was not that he wasn’t used to irregular, broken recharge cycles, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

Shaking his plating, and stretching and re-settling his doorwings, he calmed his field. Thundercracker was probably going to be reeling from the recharge flux, and was likely to be as difficult as possible, trying to prove that he hadn’t clung to Prowl’s servo and whimpered in fear.

Straightening his shoulders, and with his face impassive, he unlocked the door to his room and crossed to the energon dispenser. He set a cube to fill before going to Thundercracker’s door. Turning up the gain on his audials he listened, trying to determine whether the seeker was awake or not. There were no sounds from inside the room so Prowl rapped softly on the door before unlocking and opening it to check the mech inside.

Thundercracker was curled up under his blanket, a tight ball of limbs, wings and fabric. His optics were offline, and a quick check suggested he was still in recharge, although as Prowl watched he seemed to be waking. Prowl left him to boot up, and drew a second cube from the dispenser. He didn’t add the supplements, figuring that Thundercracker would probably be happier without them. He put both cubes on the table, and settled down to wait.

He did not have to wait long. Thundercracker appeared in the doorway, but his face was unexpectedly free of a scowl. He didn’t appear particularly upset and his wings were held quite naturally. A cautious probe with his field revealed that the seeker was still not fully online. He could clearly use several jours more recharge.

Silently, Prowl handed him the cube. Thundercracker’s optics brightened fractionally and he took it, cracking it open and drinking slowly. Prowl observed him over his own cube. The seeker finished his energon in silence before relaxing back into the padding of the chair. He barely twitched when Prowl stood and headed for the seeker’s room again, returning with the blanket, which he draped carefully over the young mech.

********************************************************************

Ironhide woke bracketed between two warm frames. Bluestreak had his helm tucked into the crook of Ironhide’s neck and one arm thrown across his chest to grip Skywarp’s servo. Skywarp had his helm pillowed on Ironhide’s other shoulder and his wings were flicked back out of the way. Pinpricks of pain at the edge of his chestplate suggested that the seeker’s claws were still anchored into one of his seams.

Both young mechs were still in recharge and Ironhide decided not to move immediately, allowing them to boot up normally. Skywarp was relaxed, although Ironhide didn't expect that to last much past the seeker waking. 

Bluestreak was twitching slightly, always a precursor to him rebooting, but Skywarp was quite still and venting evenly. Ironhide didn’t know what the seeker’s waking routine looked like, so he couldn’t gauge how long he would still be out.

Bluestreak began pulling his servo from where it was twined with Skywarp’s and the other mech’s venting started to stutter and his claws flex. Bluestreak’s optics began to flicker as they came online, and he stretched, doorwings fluttering.

Skywarp shifted, pulling away from Ironhide, who allowed him to move. The seeker was very close to the edge of the berth, but Ironhide didn’t want him to feel trapped when he woke. Hie field was still calm so he was clearly not out of recharge, but his optics were starting to online.

Bluestreak’s vocaliser hummed as it came online and he peered up at Ironhide with dim optics.

“Hey, ‘Hide.”

“Hey, Blue’.” Ironhide reset his own vocaliser with a small crackle of static, smiling at the younger Autobot. Bluestreak heaved himself off the berth, shaking his plating with a subdued rattle. Beside Ironhide, Skywarp stirred, optics flickering on. He stared at the two Autobots for a couple of clicks as his boot sequence completed, then threw himself backwards, scrabbling as the berth edge turned out to be closer than he had expected.

“Hey, Skywarp.” Bluestreak smiled at the twitching seeker. “Did you recharge ok? I told you 'Hide is nice to recharge with. I recharged really well.”

Skywarp seemed disinclined to respond. He managed to get off the berth with the modicum of dignity he had left after his previous flailing and stood watching the two Autobots warily. Ironhide noted that he was carefully keeping the berth frame between him and Bluestreak.

Ironhide shook and resettled his own plating and climbed off the berth. Skywarp backed up, trying unsuccessfully to keep both him and Bluestreak in view.

“Ya both want some energon? An’ have ya got a shift this cycle, Blue’?”

“Nope, I’m having two cycles off shift because I'm supposed to be going to see Ratchet later and my appointment got changed.” The Praxian looked pleased at the prospect and followed Ironhide out of the room. “I can stay for a bit, but I don't want to be late. Ratchet threatened to weld an Earth chronometer to my helm and reformat me into something called a 'grandfather clock’ last time I was late. I think he was joking, but I don't want to find out.”

Ironhide huffed a short laugh, attention on Skywarp emerging from the room. The seeker was keeping out of range, weight shifting from thruster to thruster as if he was contemplating bolting. Ironhide thought he caught a hint of embarrassment in the young mech’s demeanor. It made sense. He was probably not happy at being seen in such a vulnerable state by mechs he hadn't yet come to think of as allies. A ping from his comm alerted him to an incoming message.

It was from Prowl, short and to the point, informing him that a meeting had been scheduled to go over the plan to return to the Nemesis, and that both he and Skywarp were required to attend. He sent back an acknowledgement and a suggestion that Prowl should bring Thundercracker to his quarters when the meeting ended. Skywarp was likely to behave himself if he had the promise of seeing his trine mate at the end of it.

He turned to the dispenser, drawing three cubes and planning how to break the news to Skywarp.

************************************************************************  
Optimus reached the medbay a little later than he had planned. Prowl had sent him detailed commentary on the plan to go back to the Nemesis. Red Alert had disagreed with the plan on nearly every point, including the necessity of returning to the ship at all. Ironhide had sent a terse request not to allow Red Alert to implement his ideas to keep Skywarp under control while on the ship. Jazz had sent a map, devoid of a great deal of detail, and no accompanying explanation. Sorting through the mess, and sending responses had taken far more time than he had hoped.

The Autobot leader could see the young seeker he had come to speak with sitting on one of the berths in the main medbay. He appeared to be engrossed in a data pad. Optimus was a little surprised that Ratchet had apparently allowed him free rein, but then noticed the chain attached to one golden thruster. He silently approved of the precaution, and wondered how long it would take Red Alert to notice that the mech had been moved out of the secure medbay.

Pressing the chime on Ratchet’s office door, he took another covert look at the seeker. There was no sense of distress or agitation in his posture and Optimus took it as a good omen that the mech would cooperate when they came to talk.

Ratchet's thunderous expression when he ushered the Prime into the office suggested that the medic was upset about something. He closed the door behind them and took a sharp in-vent.

“I’d appreciate it, Optimus, if you would have a quiet talk to Red. Remind him, if you would, that this is MY medbay and that I am responsible for the well-being of the mechs here.”

Behind his faceplate the Prime winced. It obviously hadn't taken that long for his paranoid security director to get on Ratchet's case.

“I’ll talk to him, Ratchet. You know he means well.”

Ratchet rubbed chevron ruefully. “I know, but I don't need him on my case about how a perfectly docile young mech who has been less trouble than most Autobots I could mention should be drugged up or strapped to the berth when he talks to you.” He saw Optimus wince and added, “I told him that there was no way I’d allow that.”

He had probably delivered his message in a more direct and less diplomatic manner unless Optimus was much mistaken. There would almost certainly be a carefully worded complaint on its way to Prowl right now. Prowl would send a soothing reply and Red would almost certainly escalate it to his Prime. Optimus anticipated a fun couple of jours trying to sort it all out.

“What can you tell me about Sunstorm?” Optimus asked, opting to ignore the brewing argument for now. “You say he seems likely to talk?”

“I think so. He’s nervous, but there is no real fear there, not like the other seekers. He’s been polite and quite happy to sit on the berth reading.” Ratchet’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’ve been to check on him every so often. He’ a bit jumpy when I come over, but he settles down quickly when I make it clear that I’m not there to do anything medical.”

“You think he’s got an issue with medical personnel?”

“I’m not sure. He was a bit scared of me when he woke. He pretended to be offline until I touched him, and he promised to be good if I’d let him sit up.” The smile twisted unhappily, “It is hard to see how he wouldn’t have an issue with medics. Someone must have done a lot of work on him, not only to re-frame him but to work on his spark and damper.”

“You don’t think his spark is a natural fluctuation?”

“No.” Ratchet sighed. “I almost wish it was, but I suspect that this was a deliberate experiment.”

“Primus!” Optimus allowed his field to reflect his horror and disgust.

“Yeah.” Ratchet looked down. “I dread to think what else happened to him. I don’t like that the two adult seekers allowed it to happen, either.”

Optimus shook his helm, words failing him. He glanced towards the door of the office. “Shall we try talking to him?” Ratchet nodded, gesturing for the Prime to precede him.

Sunstorm was still engrossed in his data pad when Ratchet led Optimus over to the berth. Golden optics peered up at them cautiously, taking in Optimus’s size and clearly non-medical frametype. The Prime smiled down at him, extending his field in polite greeting.

“Sunstorm, this is Optimus Prime. He wants to speak to you.”

The change in the young seeker’s demeanor was instant. He threw the data pad aside, optics bright and shutters blown open almost comically wide. He struggled to get off the berth, but realised the chain would not allow it and compromised by kneeling on the berth’s surface, wings and helm lowered in a submissive display which Optimus recognised from the time he had become Prime.

::I wasn't expecting that!:: Ratchet somehow managed to convey surprise in the glyphs. He moved to put an arm around the shaking seeker.

:: You and me both!:: The Prime took a step back. ::You try to calm him down and I’ll stay back.:: He moved outside the range of the privacy field and Ratchet activated it, cutting the view of him off from Sunstorm.

“What was that about?” Ratchet kept his tone light but the awe and wonder in the young mech’s field, and the trembling of his frame, suggested the answer. Sunstorm looked up, embarrassment blooming across his face.

“He is the Prime,” he replied, tone earnest. “It is disrespectful not to offer the correct reverence.”

“Believe me kid, Optimus isn't interested in stuff like that.” Sunstorm was looking shocked, so Ratchet hastened to explain. “He’s been Prime through the war, nothing would ever have got done if we all had to kneel every time he came into the room, or waited until he spoke to talk to him. I’d not be able to give him more than basic medical care if I had to anoint myself and spend the night in prayer before I touched him.” Ratchet sighed. Sunstorm was looking like his whole world had lurched ninety degrees to the left. Ratchet prudently decided not to add that the Prime would probably not be alive if everyone had insisted on obeying the ancient rule that no-one outside the high priesthood could lay a servo on him.

“But, but… he is the Prime…” 

“Yes, he is also an ordinary mech…” Ratchet trailed off, thinking about how best to word the next sentence as Sunstorm made a little noise of protest. “Ok, he isn't an ordinary mech, but he prefers to be treated like one. He doesn't like people grovelling, it upsets him. If you want to make a good impression just treat him like you would any other mech.”

“But he is the Prime. He is Primus’ avatar, not to treat him with the utmost respect and reverence is to be dammed to the Pit.”

“Not to...Who told you all that pitslag, kid?” Ratchet was honestly bewildered. After so many vorns of war, most Autobots no longer believed in an ever watchful Primus, not even their Prime. The Decepticon faction, on the whole, were even less religious. Ratchet had once asked Optimus about his connection to Primus during a particularly nasty siege. The Prime had described the sensation from the Matrix as being like insulating foam around the bond to their god. A vague, itchy feeling of presence, but nothing more solid. No great mystical visions, no revelations. As if Primus were asleep.

Privately, Ratchet thought it was more likely that their god was in whatever passed for medical stasis among divine beings. Primus’ body was Cybertron itself, if the priests were to be believed, and the Cybertronian race had all but killed the planet. Not that he was about to tell Sunstorm that, poor kid would probably crash.

The golden seeker was looking mutinous, lips set in a firm line, and field offended. Ratchet huffed and rubbed his arm, his own field serene. He was curious as to where Sunstorm had picked up his religious education. Certainly not from Acid Storm, based on the green seeker’s reaction to the Prime.

“It’s not pitslag! The priests of the first Prime knew what they were talking about!”

“Where did you hear about that?”

“I’ve read the Covenant of Primus more than once. And I read High Priest Arclight’s Commentaries on the Nature of the Divine!” He had found the texts in an old storage crate. He had kept them under his berth. They were the only two data pads he had owned before he had been introduced to his trine.

“I see…” Ratchet did see. The Covenant was a relatively common text, but it was not exactly what most mechs would call straightforward. Arclight's Commentaries were one of the more hard-line explanatory texts, as well as one of the oldest. It certainly explained Sunstorm's reaction. Arclight had been notorious for his adherence to the protocols he had laid out.

None of this would really help the present situation, however. Ratchet opted to try a different tack.

“You know how important it is to obey the Prime. What if he doesn't want you to offer him reverence?”

“Ummm…” 

“Look, just listen to what he has to say. Please. He wants to ask you some questions.”

“...Ok…”

“Good kid.” Ratchet patted him on the shoulder, comming Optimus as he did so. ::I think you're ok to come back. Turns out the kid’s been reading Arclight's Commentaries.::

:: Primus!::

:: It certainly explains things.::

Optimus came through the privacy field, and Sunstorm twitched, clearly expecting some sort of divine retribution. Ratchet kept a servo on his arm, gently restraining him from prostrating himself before the Prime again. He kept his optics submissively lowered as Optimus carefully extended his field.

“Hello, Sunstorm.” The seeker gave another twitch, but didn't respond. Optimus decided to try a different tactic. “You can talk to me you know, and won't you look up so I can see your optics?” Sunstorm lifted his helm, but kept his optics focused on his servos. Optimus wondered how to broach the questions he wanted to ask.

“Can you tell me how old you are?” An easy one to start with.

“I don't know.” The young seeker’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Optimus pumped approval for the answer into his field anyway. A cooperative mech was infinitely preferable to one determined to be difficult.

“That's ok, how old do you think you are?”

“Eighty vorns.”

“Eighty!” The Prime yelped the word in an undignified manner and Sunstorm's optics shot up to meet his in surprise.

“I’m sorry.” Sunstorm cringed, ducking his helm again “I won't... I... I... I'm sorry.” he trailed off weakly when Optimus reached out to touch him. The gesture was aborted before he made contact. It wasn't clear how it would be welcomed.

“I’m the one who should apologise.” Optimus shook his helm. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just surprised. Ratchet told me you'd been reading the Covenant. Most mechs don't start so young. I know I didn't.”

The seeker preened and Ratchet shared a look with his leader. Flattery was clearly the best method for obtaining the necessary information.

“Are Acid Storm and Icestorm your creators?” 

“No.” Sunstorm shook his helm. “I don’t have any creators.” The Prime looked sad so Sunstorm hastened to reassure him. “They are my trine. They look after me!”

“That’s good.” Optimus smiled. “Acid Storm is a bit worried about you.”

“Can I see him? He always worries about me when I’m in the medbay.”

“You’ll be able to see him soon. Have you had to spend a lot of time in the medbay?”

“Yes, Shockwave…” He trailed off, looking nervous. Ratchet and Optimus traded another look, there was obviously another story there.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 chapters. I'm gobsmacked, how have I written this much?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. It is a magnificent octopus (that might not be the correct phrase, to be honest).
> 
> Thanks also (as always) to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading and encouragement.

Skywarp calmed significantly when Bluestreak had left and his expression lost its guarded cast. He drank his energon and happily headed for the wash racks after Ironhide explained what was going to happen. Ironhide took the opportunity to get his polishing kit, hoping that by getting the seeker to groom himself he would not think up any further pranks.

He just hoped that Skywarp would not repeat his trick with the cleanser on the polish.

The solvent clicked off, and Ironhide checked his chronometer. Skywarp had spent just over a click more than he should have done under the solvent. Ironhide suspected that it had been deliberate. Skywarp was testing him again. He opted not to react. A click was not really long enough to merit a telling off, at least not the first time.

The dryers clicked on and Ironhide opened the polishing kit. He hoped that Skywarp would be curious and remain in the main room while he used the wash racks.

Finally, the door lock clicked open and Skywarp came out. He looked a bit defiant, so the extra time under the solvent was probably not an accident. Ironhide just nodded to him as he crossed the room, tossing a “Feel free ta use th’ polish,” over his shoulder.

Skywarp waited until the door to the wash racks had shut and the lock had clicked before moving towards the table and the polishing kit left temptingly on display. Skywarp looked down at the scuffs and scrapes marring his armour. Ironhide had promised he could see Thundercracker, and he wanted to buff out the worst scratches before his trine mate saw them. Listening carefully to the sound of the running solvent, Skywarp picked up one of the polishing cloths.

Ironhide opened the wash rack door, and softly stepped through into the main room. The furniture was all in its original position, the supplement packets didn’t appear to have been moved and, astonishingly, Skywarp was still seated by the table, buffing a particularly deep scratch from one of his thrusters.

The seeker looked up as Ironhide approached, pausing in his polishing to regard his caretaker suspiciously. Most of the young mech’s front looked a lot better, and he had clearly worked hard with the polish, but his wings were still dull. Ironhide knew how precious most mechs with wings, be they flight models or Praxians, could be about the appendages. Skywarp went back to buffing the scratch on his thruster, but he cast occasional glances at Ironhide.

“Ya want me ta help ya wi’ ya wings kid?” Said wings stiffened and Skywarp’s helm shot up, crimson optics focused on Ironhide warily. “Ya don’t hafta’ say yes, but it’s not goin’ ta be easy ta do on ya own.” He picked up a cloth of his own. “Ah won’t hurt ya. Ya can tell me ta stop at any time.” 

“‘K.” Incredibly, Skywarp turned back to his thruster, although his wings twitched and quivered as Ironhide moved behind him. Ironhide ran a servo across the top edge of the closest wing. Skywarp was trying to hide his nervousness, and failing, but Ironhide flooded his own field with pride and approval, attempting to reassure him.

He spread the polish on the cloth and with a soft “Tell me if ah’m too rough,” began gently working the polish into the broad wings.

Skywarp began purring before Ironhide had finished the first wing, and the Autobot relaxed. Skywarp was clearly bouncing back from the previous cycle’s distress. Ironhide’s engine purred gently in counterpoint and he moved to Skywarp’s second wing.

Skywarp was a happy puddle of seeker by the time Ironhide finished, and his plating looked a lot more presentable. Ironhide was astonished at the change, and hoped it boded well for the meeting in a jour. He settled on the couch next to the black mech, buffing a couple of scuffs from his own forearms. Skywarp watched him, optics dulled to a glowing garnet hue.

“Ya tired, kid?” Ironhide put a newly polished servo on his arm, giving it a quick squeeze. “Ya had a bad recharge.” Skywarp made a little noise of agreement, and Ironhide shifted to allow the mech to curl against his side. He decided to try pushing again, wanting to get the seeker to talk while he was calm. “Ya had a nasty flux, ya want ta tell me wha’ it was about?”

“Shockwave.” Ironhide stiffened, surprised again. He had expected a mumbled denial or a ‘s’nothing’. His processor started ticking over the new information and he looped an arm around Skywarp’s shoulders.

“Aw kid, did he hurt ya?”

“Yeah. Megatron made him. Wanted t’ tel’port. Kept lookin’ at th’ warp gate.” He burrowed closer. “It hurt. Always hurt, n’ he wouldn’ let me talk.” A distressed little shudder rippled across his plating, and Ironhide hugged him. 

“Ya poor kid.” It was easily the most Skywarp had spoken in his presence, and it told him a lot about the seeker’s past and his nervousness. He made a note to tell Ratchet. The medic would probably want to check Skywarp for damage to his warp drive and the surrounding plating when he was next in the medbay. “We’ve got almost a jour ’fore we need ta leave. If ya want ta recharge fer a bit, ah’ll wake ya up.”

Skywarp’s field suggested he was most of the way to recharge already, so Ironhide left him to it, keeping up a steady rumble from his engine. He had a lot to process. It was no surprise that Megatron had wanted to duplicate Skywarp’s ability to teleport. The Autobots had come up with numerous plans over the vorns to capture Skywarp, or to encourage him to defect, to get the valuable device out of Megatron’s claws. Ironhide was relieved that Shockwave had failed, but Skywarp’s words made him suspect that the young seeker had been Shockwave’s unwilling ‘guest’ on more than one occasion.

************************************************************************

Ironhide opted to disentangle himself from Skywarp before waking the seeker. He preferred not to go through a repeat of the morning’s drama again, particularly as he was about to bring Skywarp into a room full of Autobots, some of whom would be hostile or wary of the young mech.

Skywarp twitched as his warm pillow moved and reluctantly onlined his optics. He stayed still as his processors rebooted, listening to the sound of Ironhide moving around the room, picking up the polishing kit.

“Ya finished rebooting?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp rebooted his optics and pulled himself upright, shaking slightly cramped wings.

“Good kid.” Ironhide’s tone was warm with approval, and he moved back round to sit on the couch. “Ah want ta get goin’ in a few clicks. Can ah trust ya ta behave at th’ meetin’?” His question garnered a brief nod from Skywarp. “Good. Come on then.” He stood, and ushered the seeker towards the door.

Ironhide held on to Skywarp’s arm once they got out of their quarters, but unlike previous trips, Skywarp felt far more relaxed. Ironhide silently hoped that he had timed their departure right, and that they would arrive before any potential troublemakers. He was aware that Red Alert would be present, and that the security director had requested that Sunstreaker form part of the group going back to the Nemesis. Ironhide didn’t know why, but he could guess. Sunstreaker would still not be happy with Skywarp, and Ironhide would not bet against Red Alert requiring the presence of the temperamental frontliner in an attempt to precipitate something.

As usual when the seeker was outside their quarters, he was alert, scanning his surroundings, wings held high and sharply angled. The two mechs walked briskly. Ironhide noted that Skywarp put most of his weight forward on the front of his peds, causing the young mech to take two small and quick steps for every one of Ironhide’s. It didn’t slow him down, but it changed his gait at speed as it forced him to lean forward slightly in counterbalance.

The trip passed quickly with Ironhide making the occasional comment and Skywarp responding with one or two word answers. Ironhide was pleased with the clear progress that the young mech was making, although he had suspicions that Skywarp was still trying to convince him that there were no issues with his language programming.

Ironhide ushered his charge into the large meeting room, releasing him when the door slid closed behind them. Optimus, Prowl and Jazz, as well as Trailbreaker, Mirage and Hound, were already present. Ironhide relaxed slightly.

“Ya want ta sit down an’ wait kid? Ah just need ta speak ta Prahm fer a click.” Skywarp nodded and cautiously approached the meeting table. He perched on the closest chair, optics darting around at the Autobots present. Hound and Trailbreaker were discussing something over a data pad on the other side of the table and, as Skywarp watched, Mirage moved away from Jazz and joined them. Hound looked up and flashed Skywarp a quick smile before turning his attention back to his comrades.

Jazz moved away from the corner in which he had been talking in hushed tones to Mirage, and crossed to Ironhide, who was waiting while the Prime and Prowl finished their discussion at the head of the table. Prowl had a stack of data pads in front of him and was gesturing towards them.

The door swished open again and Skywarp’s helm jerked around to track the new arrivals. Sunstreaker stepped through the door first, taking up a position beside the entrance, glaring at the assembled mechs. Red Alert entered behind the yellow frontliner. His optics immediately locked on to Skywarp and the red mech stormed over. Skywarp gave a tiny, worried, chirp as Red Alert was followed by Sunstreaker and scrambled to his peds, putting the chair between himself and the two Autobots. He was aware that Ironhide and Jazz were watching the little by-play, but Red Alert was suddenly right in his face, and Sunstreaker was moving to trap him against the table.

Skywarp twisted to avoid Sunstreaker, who grabbed one of his arms, yanking him back. Skywarp started hissing, claws extending automatically but suddenly Ironhide was there, one big servo on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, pulling the mech away from the seeker.

“Enough, Sunny!” Ironhide’s voice was stern as the frontliner growled, optics fixed on the hissing seeker. Skywarp’s engines gave an angry rev in return. “Skywarp! Go and sit with Hound at the other side of the table.” The black mech didn’t move. “Now, please!”

Skywarp’s optics darted around the ring of Autobots surrounding him. The Prime had a servo on Red Alert’s shoulder, with Prowl and Jazz flanking him. Mirage had appeared at Ironhide’s back, watching the scene unfold. Jazz gestured to Skywarp, leaving a gap for the seeker to move past him and away from the drama.

Briefly he considered bolting for the door, but Ironhide’s optics were on him, and his caretaker would certainly not be pleased if he were forced to activate the stasis generators. Skywarp suspected that, at the very least, it would result in him not being allowed to see Thundercracker for a long time to come.

Hound smiled at the young seeker as he moved across the room towards them. Trailbreaker smiled too, but it was slightly strained. Skywarp dropped into the seat next to the tracker and stared at his servos. Across the room Ironhide was speaking softly to Sunstreaker, who was looking murderous, and Optimus was listening to Red Alert’s furious rant. From their position at the table the three mechs could hear most of the words. The security director was clearly worked up, ranting about Skywarp not being in stasis cuffs, his dangerous aggression and the fact that he shouldn’t even be allowed to attend a briefing and should still be in the brig.

When sparks started grounding themselves out across the mech’s sensor horns Optimus gently ushered him out. Ironhide sat Sunstreaker down, and Jazz sat next to him. Prowl headed back to his own seat and Ironhide moved around the table to Skywarp, sitting himself down on the seeker’s other side.

“Ya ok?” Skywarp nodded, optics still fixed on his servos. “Ya sure?” There was another nod and Skywarp’s engine, which was still whining, was forcibly throttled back. Ironhide put his servo over Skywarp’s own. “Let me know if ya need a break.” He didn't receive a response, but he had not really expected one.

Red Alert and Optimus entered (Red Alert looking surprisingly undamaged), followed by Kup, who moved around the table to seat himself beside Ironhide.

“Hey 'Hide.” The old mech gave his comrade a swift once-over. “Heard y’ changed y’ paint. Ratch’ was full of how fuschia pink was th’ in colour this season, but I see y’ thought better of it.” His tone was teasing, and Ironhide rolled his optics.

“Ah’m gonna’ have ta have a word wi’ Ratch’ 'bout tha’ story.” Beside him Skywarp cringed slightly, and he patted the seeker’s servo absently. Hound and Trailbreaker were listening from the other side, both looking curious, but Optimus called the meeting to order as Prowl distributed the data pads from the stack.

Skywarp flicked the pad on. It contained an outline of the mission, and a map of the main parts of the Nemesis. The map included the bridge, common areas and labs, but it was sketchy on the details. There was a stylus with the pad which Skywarp picked up, twirling unconsciously between his digits as the Prime began to speak.

Almost immediately, Skywarp found himself lost. The Autobots seemed to debate every little thing, even the stuff they mostly agreed about. He didn't quite catch everything being said, but he could follow enough to realise that it didn't make much sense. He ducked down, trying to make himself as small as possible, when Red Alert started ranting again about how dangerous he was. Instead of simply beating the security director into silence, the Prime listened carefully to his words.

Skywarp's trepidation rose. He didn't want the Prime to listen to the red mech, in case he decided to take the advice being offered. With Ironhide on one side of him and Hound on the other, he probably couldn't make it out of his seat, let alone out of the door, before someone grabbed him. His engine span up again despite his efforts to control it and the Prime glanced in his direction.

Ironhide's servo moved to cover his own again, and Skywarp was comforted, despite himself. Ironhide probably wouldn't let anything really bad happen to him... probably. It wouldn't do to rely on that, but there was a chance.

The Prime showed astonishing restraint. Skywarp remembered similar briefings, back before the end of the war, when calm and restraint were usually bad signs. Megatron had been highly dangerous when calm. Calm and restraint usually exploded into violence after a while. He kept fidgeting with the stylus nervously.

Finally the Prime called for a break, and Skywarp relaxed slightly. Ironhide pulled two energon cubes from his subspace and put one down in front of him.

“Ya want ta drink tha’, kid?” Skywarp reached for the cube. Most of the other mechs in the room had cubes of their own. Skywarp opened the cube, taking a small sip to check the quality. On Ironhide's other side, Kup raised his own cube to his intake, watching Skywarp.

::You have to tell me how you managed that, 'Hide. I can’t get Thrust to fuel with me for anything.::

Ironhide looked over his shoulder at the seeker, who was looking at the map on the data pad with interest, and turned back to Kup. ::I think he was too frightened not to fuel with me. I didn’t really give him a choice. He’s very quiet though, I can barely get a word out of him.::

::Words are not Thrust’s strong point either.:: Kup rolled his optics. ::Kid’s worse than Springer for silent sulking.::

::Ratch’ thinks none of them have any language programming.::

::Yeah, he mentioned it to me. I think he’s right. Inferno and I had Thrust and Dirge together and they don’t even talk to each other. There’s lots of wing movement and vocalising, but no words.::

::Skywarp’s the same. Lots of wing movement and clicking.:: He glanced back at the seeker, who had started marking the data pad with intense concentration, wings twitching and vocaliser emitting little clicks. ::Like now.::

::You tried translating any of that?::

::No, I’ve not got enough context yet. He’s trying to convince me he speaks perfect Standard.:: Kup shook his helm, expression skeptical. ::Exactly. I’ve tried broaching it with him, so’s Ratch’, but he gets very upset.::

::Not surprised. I’m not going to try talking to Thrust about it until I can get him in a better frame of processor.:: He took a swig of his cube and said “So, ‘Hide, hot pink?”

Skywarp was ignoring his caretaker, engrossed in whatever he was doing on the data pad, so Ironhide regaled Kup, Hound and Trailbreaker with Skywarp’s misdemeanor. Kup pointed out that Ironhide should certainly have known better, and Ironhide gave him a playful punch to the shoulder.

Skywarp's cube was still sitting, largely ignored, by the data pad. Ironhide leant over to nudge it closer, and coincidentally take a look at what Skywarp had been doing. He paused, surprised. The data pad was now showing a remarkably detailed map of the Nemesis. The original had been erased, although he could see where the outline remained. 

The map filled in the blank areas around the personal quarters of the ship, with multiple rooms detailed. Skywarp's servo slowed as he felt Ironhide's attention focused on him, and his wings tensed. Ironhide picked up the cube, and handed it back to Skywarp, who took it while trying to nonchalantly cover the data pad with his other servo.

“Drink ya cube.” Ironhide gently patted his arm in reproof, and reached carefully for the data pad. “Can ah see what ya’ve drawn?” Skywarp reluctantly moved his servo, not entirely sure that the Autobot would be happy with his improvements. “This accurate?” Skywarp just gave a little shrug, optics on the tabletop, wings held low.

“What y’got, 'Hide?” Skywarp hunched down further as Jazz came over. The Autobot was flanked by Mirage, and Hound and Trailbreaker both stood for a better view. Ironhide passed Jazz the data pad, and the assembled mechs were treated to an expression of honest shock and surprise on the saboteur's face.

The rest of the Autobots crowded in and Skywarp froze, engine whining nervously. He tucked his wings in as far as they would go, not wanting to be a target should anyone get angry. He noticed Ironhide looking at him, but wouldn't meet his optics, not wanting any attention to be drawn to him.

Jazz moved away to grab his own data pad and the crush at Skywarp's back eased slightly as everyone else moved back or returned to their own seats. Ironhide waved a servo at him, getting his attention.

“Ya want ta take a break? Ah think ya can use it.” He stood as he spoke, gesturing to Skywarp to follow him. The seeker got up uncertainly, tagging behind his caretaker towards the door. He heard Red Alert beginning another rant as Ironhide led him out, but the older mech took him a little way down the corridor. Kup joined them, leaning against the wall.

“I know Red’s a good mech, and good at his job, but Primus he needs to talk to someone 'bout his paranoia!” Ironhide huffed a laugh at Kup’s complaint.

“S’not paranoia when they really out ta get ya!”

“True, but th’ war’s over so they aren't out to get us any more!” Kup’s tone was light, but Ironhide knew the green mech had similar problems with a number of members of his unit. The war had caused too much damage to too many mechs, both mental and physical. The physical damage could be repaired, medics had been a jealously guarded resource during the war, but the mental damage was a different matter. Psychiatrists were rare even before the war. The Autobots had one (who was not exactly without his own issues) and, as far as Ironhide knew, the Decepticons had never had any, preferring blunt object therapy to talking.

Skywarp was staring at the floor, servos crossed across his cockpit, shifting unconsciously from ped to ped. Kup flicked his optics over the seeker and glanced at Ironhide.

::What’s the kid so scared about?::

::I don’t know. He seems scared of Autobots in general, but he’s been really uneasy around Jazz and Prime.::

“That was some map you drew, kid. You good with maps?” Skywarp looked up at Kup, but didn’t answer. “It’s a good skill. I remember one mech…”

Ironhide tuned out Kup’s anecdote as his comm signalled a message from Prowl.

::Is Skywarp alright? Jazz is raving about his map drawing skills, but he seemed a bit overwhelmed.::

::Yeah, maybe too many mechs at once. He’s listening to one of Kup’s stories. He seems to be relaxing a bit.::

::Are you bringing him back in?::

::Give it five clicks.:: Skywarp gave a little suppressed choke of laughter as Kup ended his story. Ironhide smiled himself. The seeker was calming down


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is stress, lots and lots of stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sunstorm! I do like writing poor Sunstorm, he is just so cute!
> 
> Thanks (again) to CheerfullyMorbid for beta reading!

Prowl accompanied them away from the meeting, having suggested that he pick up Thundercracker and they all walk to Ironhide’s quarters together. Prowl hoped that Thundercracker would behave on the walk if his trine mate was there. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk back, but he hoped that Thundercracker would be off balance enough to leave calmly.

Skywarp was quiet, as always, and a bit subdued. Ironhide and Prowl were not surprised. Red Alert had managed to wring one concession out of the Prime, that before the trip to the Nemesis, the various blocks and dampers installed in Skywarp's systems would be thoroughly tested by Ratchet. The security director had pitched a very predictable fit following the revelation of just how good Skywarp's mapping software was. It was light-years ahead of anything the Autobots had. He had claimed that the seeker had re-drawn the map to lead the Autobots into a trap, even after both Jazz and Mirage had testified that they thought the information was genuine.

The shouting match which had ensued lasted for at least fifteen clicks, and had driven all the mechs not directly involved back into the corridor. Hound had made a valiant attempt to draw Skywarp out about making maps and surveying, but the young seeker had become monosyllabic and uncommunicative, so the scout had left the topic. Ironhide intended to test Skywarp's ability further, but wanted to wait until the seeker was in a more familiar environment.

Prowl ushered both mechs into his quarters when they had reached the door, signalling them to wait while he attempted to get Thundercracker from his room. Ironhide kept his servo on Skywarp's arm, mindful of the unlocked door at their back, and the slight pull the seeker was exerting, wanting to see his trine mate.

Eventually Thundercracker emerged, sceptical expression morphing into one of genuine surprise before he hurriedly covered it with something blank and unimpressed. Skywarp's wings twitched, and he gave a low chirring sound as the blue seeker came closer. Thundercracker's wings gave a little wiggle in return and his engine revved softly.

“Come on, ya can chat when ya get back ta our quarters.” Thundercracker glared at Ironhide but didn’t say anything. Prowl took a firm grip on the blue seeker’s arm as they left, but the young mech didn’t attempt his usual trick of rolling his arm in an attempt to break the tactician's grip.

As they walked down the corridor, neither seeker noticed Jazz slip quietly through Prowl's door. Prowl himself had sanctioned the little excursion, and Jazz was hoping to get sight of Thundercracker’s data pad.

It was a carefully calculated move. If Thundercracker discovered that the Autobots had got hold of it, the fall-out would probably destroy the very fragile trust that Prowl was starting to build with the young seeker. The repercussions would probably be far wider, with Skywarp’s own faith in Ironhide being damaged, and even issues between the other trine of seekers and their own caretakers. Prying into the seekers’ personal effects was dangerous.

On the other servo, Prowl thought it was highly likely that the data pad contained information which would help them understand the seekers, and Thundercracker in particular. The young mech obviously had a lot of mental and emotional damage to be dealt with, and he clearly didn’t want to share it.

Jazz opened the door to Thundercracker’s room carefully, checking for traps out of habit, and cast an experienced optic over the space. The sensible place to store a data pad would be the desk. The place to hide it would probably be the berth.

Decision made, Jazz crossed to the berth. If Thundercracker had been working on the pad when Prowl called him out, he would not have had much time to hide it. Methodically the spy began to move the pillows, careful to note the configuration in order to put them back exactly. The data pad was sitting right at the bottom of the pile, on top of a small lump under the berth padding. Jazz slid a servo under the pad, questing digits meeting twisted metal. He carefully pulled the metal out, and nearly dropped it when he realised it was a shard of plating, clearly ripped from a deactivated frame.

Slightly disturbed, Jazz pushed the metal back into its original position, trying to ignore the faint sense of nausea. His instinct was to take it away and dispose of it, but to do so would show Thundercracker that he had been digging around in his room. 

Instead, he picked up the data pad, taking it through to the console in the main room. He pulled a data cable from his subspace and linked the pad to Teletraan’s mainframe, instructing the console to copy the contents to his personal files.

The console beeped, signalling that the upload was completed, and Jazz disconnected it and took the pad back to Thundercracker’s room, arranging the pillows carefully over it again.

The spy slipped from the room, heading for his own quarters and the downloaded files, wanting to see what secrets the data pad held.

***********************************************************************

Skywarp and Thundercracker predictably disappeared into Skywarp’s room once the little group reached Ironhide’s quarters. Ironhide shrugged his shoulders, and reminded Skywarp that their energon would be in the main room in two jours’ time.

“Does he spend a lot of time hiding in his room?” Prowl watched the retreating seekers with a small frown on his usually impassive face, and turned to his fellow Autobot as Ironhide ushered him towards the seating area.

“Not so much recently, but ah suspect if ah left him ta himself he would.” Ironhide shrugged. “We’ve been busy in th’ last few cycles. He did plenty of hidin’ before tha’.”

“Thundercracker spends too much time in his room. I think he needs to interact with more mechs.” Prowl’s doorwings flicked, conveying his worry. “I was hoping he would settle in better.”

“Skywarp tends ta be jumpy ‘round other mechs. Primus, he’s jumpy enough ‘round me.” Ironhide shook his helm. “Ah’m wonderin’ if gettin’ him a limited comm might help. Make sure he can contact me if he starts feelin’ threatened.”

“Sounds sensible. He was clearly uncomfortable at the meeting, especially when the debate started getting lively.”

“D’ya know what meetin’s like that were like for th’ ‘Cons? Ah wonder if he was anticipatin’ somethin’ bad happenin’”

Prowl’s engine hummed thoughtfully. “I shall ask Jazz. I suspect Megatron was not keen on debate from the ranks.”

“Poor kid.” Ironhide shook his helm sadly. “Ah managed ta get some information ‘bout some’a th’ stuff that happened ta him wi’ th’ ‘Cons.” Prowl cocked his helm, looking interested. “Ah told ya he had a bad flux last cycle?” Prowl nodded. “From wha’ he said it sounds like Ole’ Buckethead wasn’t above gettin’ Shockwave ta try an’ duplicate Skywarp’s teleportin’ ability. Ah’m goin’ ta go out on a limb an’ say ah don’t think Shocky was very concerned ‘bout Skywarp’s comfort, or happiness.” Ironhide paused reflectively. “He said it always hurt, an’ somethin’ ‘bout not bein’ allowed ta talk.”

“Disconnected vocaliser, probably.” Prowl frowned. “I’m wondering if something similar happened to Thundercracker. It would explain a few things about his behaviour.” Prowl's optics unfocused slightly. Ironhide recognised the sign that the Second in Command was shunting data from his processor to his tactical computer. Prowl refocused after a click, glancing up at Ironhide. “Thundercracker had a bad flux last cycle as well. I wonder whether the two were linked?”

“Did Thundercracker say anythin’ ta ya ’bout it?” Prowl gave him a look which adequately conveyed how far off the mark the question was.

“Thundercracker does not speak to me voluntarily.” Prowl unfocused again for an astrosecond as his tactical computer pinged him with further data. Ironhide cocked his helm, looking curious. “I'm wondering if both of them having bad fluxes in the same cycle is linked to the 'trine channel’ that Thundercracker mentioned. But that suggests a bond, not a simple comm unit.”

“Kids are barely old enough ta bond now. An’ Ratch’ didn't find any sign of a bond when he scanned 'em.”

“True.” Prowl fed the additional information back to his computer, dedicating a little extra runtime to the question.

In Skywarp's room, both seekers were perched on Skywarp's berth. Skywarp's face was buried in Thundercracker's neck and he was making muffled whimpers. Thundercracker was chirping worriedly, trying to comfort his trine mate.

Skywarp hadn't really explained what had happened at the meeting, but Thundercracker gathered that his trine mate’s low tolerance for boredom had got him in trouble once again. Skywarp had suggested that the Autobots wanted to take him back to the Nemesis so he could show them where all the important stuff was, allowing them to strip the old base before they destroyed it. Skywarp had been correcting a map during the meeting (something Megatron had frequently tasked him with) and the Autobots had got very excited and the paranoid one (Red-something Thundercracker thought) had insisted that Skywarp be taken to the medbay and have his mapping software and teleportation drive examined.

Thundercracker understood Skywarp's fear. Shockwave had not been kind to any mech who found themselves strapped to his examination table, and that was just a sample of what grounders would do to their allies. Despite Ratchet not having hurt either of them so far, Thundercracker knew it was a temporary respite at best.

*******************************************************************************

Sunstorm was picking at the chain around his ankle again. Ratchet had stopped him the first few times with a word, or a stern look, but the young mech kept twisting the restraint around his thruster, scoring a silver line into the plating as the nanites were scraped away.

Ratchet suspected it was boredom, and nervousness, but mostly boredom. He knew Sunstorm would be worse off in a cell, with even less to occupy himself, but keeping a perfectly healthy mech in the medbay sat wrong with his coding. He had tried to keep the young seeker occupied, but there was only so much he could do.

Optimus had promised he and Prowl would discuss Sunstorm's predicament. Ratchet knew that Optimus would take the young mech in himself, but the Autobot leader acknowledged that Sunstorm's clear religious awe when he saw the Prime would make the situation untenable in the long run.

Sunstorm had not been as helpful as the Autobots had hoped. He had, after a lot of gentle prompting, revealed enough information about his treatment at Shockwave’s servo that Ratchet now entertained thoughts of resurrecting the purple Decepticon for the express purpose of disassembling him slowly. Sunstorm had reluctantly told them about cycles spent strapped to the berth while Shockwave poked and prodded at him, but he didn’t know anything about the other seekers. There was clear awe in his voice when he talked about Starscream and his trine, but no information.

Ratchet mentally ran through the short list of mechs who could successfully care for a very young mech in an adult frame. Jazz would certainly take the job on, but Ratchet worried that his very laid back approach to life would not gel with the quiet young seeker. Ultra Magnus might be a good choice, but his big frame and very stoic demeanor might be too intimidating for such a young mech. Ratchet’s name was the last on the list and he pondered the options. He would need to leave First Aid in charge of the medbay, but the Protectobot was more than capable. The only issue was his lack of self confidence, and Ratchet hoped that a taste of leadership would help sort that out.

Ratchet thought carefully. Sunstorm was clearly frightened of medics, but getting him to assist in the medbay when he got a little more settled might help with that. 

Decision made, Ratchet commed Prowl.

***************************************************************************  
Ratchet had an appointment available surprisingly quickly. Ironhide suspected he had been briefed about Red Alert's requirements ahead of time. Skywarp was quiet as they walked to the medbay, uneasy about the checks Ratchet was due to conduct. Ironhide had attempted to reassure him, but had been met with blank silence.

The trip to the medbay went quickly, and Ironhide let go of the seeker’s arm when the door had closed behind them.

“Ya ok?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp looked around the medbay and suddenly stiffened. Ironhide followed his gaze, and caught sight of the golden seeker sitting on a berth. Skywarp moved forward before Ironhide could stop him, heading for the other Decepticon. Ironhide held back, wanting to see what Skywarp would do, and Ratchet appeared at his elbow.

“Interesting! I wonder what Skywarp wants with Sunstorm?” Ironhide glanced over at the medic.

“Sunstorm? Ah’m guessing he’s another youngling?”

“Yes, well, sparkling really. He thinks he's about eighty vorns old. My scans say the same.”

“Primus!”

“Yeah. By the way, that's not a word to use around him unless you want a ten click lecture about taking Primus’ name in vain.”

Ironhide regarded Ratchet steadily for any sign he might be joking, but the medic met his look without so much as a twitch of his lips. The weapons specialist shook his helm. “Ah’m not goin'ta ask!” 

He looked back at the two seekers. Skywarp was perched on the berth beside the other mech, one servo on his shoulder. The wings of both were twitching, and Ironhide suspected that if he turned the gain of his audials up he would hear the chirping and clicking which seemed to form the basis of the seekers’ language.

“I’m hoping that Skywarp will let me run my tests while he’s sitting with Sunstorm. The poor kid doesn't have any positive associations with medbays, or medics, and I want to show him I’m not about to hurt him.”

“That why ya got him chained ta th’ berth? Ya can't get close enough ta install th’ generators?”

“Yeah.” Ratchet’s field reflected his displeasure with the whole situation. “It's not so much that I can't get close, more that I don't want to spook him.”

“Skywarp'll probably say yes if ya ask him. Ya think Sunstorm’ll be more keen ta believe a fellow ‘Con 'bout ya bein’ a good medic?”

“I hope so.” Ratchet shrugged. “I’ll ask at least.” He clapped a servo against Ironhide's shoulder, moving towards the berth occupied by the two seekers. Skywarp was trying to offer Sunstorm some comfort, if his body language was anything to go by. Both young mechs fell silent when Ratchet drew nearer, optics watching him carefully.

Skywarp made to stand up when Ratchet reached the berth, but Ratchet put a restraining servo on his arm. The young seeker’s field was frightened.

“If you're ok with Sunstorm seeing you being checked over, I’m happy for you to stay here.” He smiled at both seekers reassuringly. “I’m not doing anything unpleasant, I promise.”

Skywarp looked over at Sunstorm, then back at the medic, clearly coming to a decision. “K.”

“Good kid.” Ratchet activated the privacy field. He patted Skywarp's arm, before sliding his servo down the black forearm to his wrist. Both seekers continued to watch him, fields nervous, as Ratchet stroked the cover of Skywarp's medical port. The young mech lifted his servo obediently, the cover popping open. Ratchet didn't move to connect his own cable immediately, taking his time in unspooling it, keeping Skywarp's servo in his own. He didn't pull away, but he tensed, wings held rigid.

Sunstorm's golden optics were wide and frightened, locked on Skywarp's servo where the medic held it. Ratchet patted his knee with his free servo before calmly plugging his cable into the open port.

“Does that hurt?” Ratchet asked, wanting to get Skywarp feeding back to Sunstorm that an examination was not something to fear.

“No.” The sync completed and Skywarp's systems began feeding Ratchet the required data. 

“You’ve been recharging much better. Are the supplements helping?” The question gained a brief nod and Ratchet smiled. “Good.” He went quiet again, sorting through the various data streams, testing the effectiveness of the various blocks and buffers keeping Skywarp’s natural abilities suppressed. Everything was working as expected, and a system scan showed that Skywarp was in good condition. “Everything looks good, kid. Have you decided who you want to take a look at your wings?” 

“Bluestreak.”

“Ok, I’ll have a word with him.” He disconnected his cable and began winding it back up. “Do you want him to treat you in here or in your quarters?”

“Quarters.”

“Ok. You’re all done. D’you want a rust stick?” Skywarp’s wings perked up and he looked hopeful. Ratchet smiled, handing both mechs the treats and lowering the privacy field. He put a servo on Skywarp’s wing to get the seekers attention. “You can come and see Starscream for a bit if you promise to behave.” He could see Sunstorm looking hopefully at him as well, but concentrated on Skywarp, who was practically wriggling with excitement.”Come on then.”

Skywarp slipped from the berth, almost running to the door of the secure medbay. Ratchet followed more sedately, sending a brief comm to Ironhide to tell him what was going to happen. Unlocking the door, he allowed Skywarp to dart inside, and nearly walked into the seeker’s wings when the mech stopped dead in the middle of the room.

Skywarp approached Starscream's still frame cautiously, stretching out a servo as if to touch, but snatching it back just as quickly.

“You can touch him.” Ratchet stroked the top edge of Skywarp’s wing. “Just be careful.” Skywarp flashed him an irritated look and reached out again, settling his servo on the still shoulder and beginning a tactile exploration just as Thundercracker had. A litany of clicks and chirps accompanied the touches. Surreptitiously, Ratchet began recording the noises. Vosian was a lot like Praxian, with the words accompanied by wing movements to add emphasis and tone to whatever was being said, but the language didn’t include any clicks or chirps.

Ratchet strongly suspected that the young seekers had developed their own language. If he could encourage Sunstorm to help he would probably be able to get a working translation of what the young mechs were saying. He wondered how well the adult seekers understood the younglings, and how the two groups normally communicated.

Skywarp’s field was becoming distressed and Ratchet hastened to reassure the young mech. “I know it looks bad, but I promise Starscream is not about to die on us.” Skywarp whimpered, and Ratchet stroked his wings gently. “Do you want me to get Ironhide?” The offer received an emphatic head shake.

Ratchet stood back, allowing the young mech some space. He kept a close optic on the black wings, wanting to prevent the seeker from becoming overly upset. When the twitching became more agitated he put his servo on Skywarp’s shoulder.

“Come on. ‘Hide wants me to look at your comm unit before you go.” He tugged gently, encouraging Skywarp to move away from the berth. The seeker gave a little whimper, but followed Ratchet obediently into the main medbay.

Ironhide was sitting by Sunstorm’s berth, the gold seeker was looking slightly nervous, but seemed to be responding to whatever the older Autobot was saying. Ironhide stood when Ratchet and Skywarp came over, and smiled at the young mech.

“Ya ok?” Skywarp’s optics darted from Sunstorm’s face to Ironhide's, then dropped to the floor.

“Yeah.”

“Ah’ll let Ratch’ do whatever else he needs ta, then we’ll head back ta our quarters. Ya happy wi’ that?”

“Yeah.” The response was even softer. Ironhide looked hard at the seeker, but didn’t make any further comment. Ratchet activated the privacy field, and gestured for Ironhide to leave, then turned back to Skywarp.

“Are you happy for me to do this here?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp’s wings were held low, and Ratchet reached out a servo to pet the top edge of the closest one.

“Ok. Let me explain what I’m going to do.” Ratchet removed his servo with a final pat. “I’m going to reconnect two channels on your comm system. I’m setting them up so you can contact Ironhide and Prowl. It’s just a short and mid range commline, so you won’t be able to use them off planet, but it will do for now.” Skywarp had perked up to hear that he was getting his comms back and was twitching with interest. “What I’m going to need to do is physically connect your comm, so I’ll have to open your plating to do it.” Skywarp looked nervous, and Sunstorm gave a little whimper. Ratchet hastened to reassure both seekers. “It’s going to mean opening the little hatch at the base of your helm. It won’t hurt, but you might feel a little pinch when I solder the wires in place.”

Skywarp twitched nervously, and Sunstorm’s servos reflexively clenched, betraying his own unease. Ratchet pushed professional reassurance and calm into his own field.

“I’ll go slowly, and if you want me to stop, I will. Ok?” There was a brief clicked conversation between the two seekers, then Skywarp turned back to Ratchet, expression determined.

“Ok.” His hiked up wings suggested that the situation was not exactly ok, but he was controlled and trying to make his field calm. Ratchet felt a pang of sorrow for both mechs. Seeing a medic should not be a terrifying experience, and he mentally cursed every mech who had had a servo in the situation.

“Do you want to turn your helm a bit to look straight at Sunstorm. And Sunstorm, could you hold Skywarp's servo please, most mechs find it easier if they have someone else to hold on to.” Both young seekers obeyed, and Ratchet settled a servo on Skywarp's shoulder, rubbing little circles on the plating. Skywarp flinched, but remained still. Ratchet allowed his servo to drift up Skywarp's neck to the base of his helm, staying in contact with the seekers plating. Emboldened by the lack of a negative reaction, he worked his digits to the panel. Skywarp took a sharp in-vent and his wings jerked in agitation when Ratchet touched the latch. From the way Sunstorm winced and whimpered, Ratchet suspected that Skywarp had gripped a little tight. 

“You both alright?” He rubbed gently over the panel, wanting to see whether Skywarp would open it without prompting.

“Yes.” Sunstorm's optics showed his naked fear, but his voice was surprisingly steady.

“Good. I’m not going further than under the panel. Can you open it for me?” The black frame under his servos trembled, but the panel popped open. “Thank you.” Ratchet flooded his field with how impressed he was by Skywarp's cooperation.

Transforming his digits into a fine grip and micro-welder Ratchet gently reached for one of the wires which had been disconnected and curled carefully below the panel. He kept up a calm explanation of what he was doing. “I'm going to re-attach this wire first. It just needs a tiny weald.” He ignited the welding torch, touching it gently to the attachment point. Skywarp gave a little whimper. “All done. It didn't hurt did it?”

“No.” The word was almost a whisper. Skywarp was determinedly controlling his field. He wasn’t being very successful, but Ratchet let him feel how proud he was of the effort he was making.

“Good kid. One more wire and we’re done, ok?”

“’K.”

“You’re doing well. I’ll just pick this wire out.” He fitted the words to the deed and gently picked out the second wire. Skywarp was still tense, but he didn’t move. “I’ll just add a touch of the welder...There, all done.” He gently closed the panel and stroked the closest wing. “That wasn’t too bad was it?”

“No”

“I told you so.” He patted the wing again and smiled a both mechs, deactivating the privacy field. Ironhide looked up at the movement, and stood, crossing to the berth.

“Ya all done?”

“Yes, you can try giving him your commline.”

Skywarp’s newly connected comm pinged. The incoming transmission was a system handshake from Ironhide’s commline. He hesitated before accepting, but allowed the connection to form.

::Are you receiving this clearly?::

There was a pause, then ::...Yes.::

Ironhide smiled at him. “Ya ready ta go?” he asked aloud, pinging Ratchet with the results of the comm test.

Skywarp slid from the berth instead of responding, wings still tense, clearly wanting to leave. Sunstorm’s wings dropped as his fellow seeker moved away, and he crossed his arms over his cockpit. He watched Skywarp and Ironhide leave longingly.

“Are you alright?” Ratchet patted his shoulder, and the golden mech jumped slightly.

“I’m ok.” Sunstorm’s field and posture didn’t feel or look remotely happy, and Ratchet allowed his servo to linger on the gold plating. When the medic reactivated the privacy field, Sunstorm smothered a whimper. 

“I’m not going to do anything, but we need to talk. I don’t think we need everyone listening in.” He smiled reassuringly, but Sunstorm drew back slightly. Ratchet reached for another rust stick which he handed to the young mech. “Optimus doesn’t want you in a cell, or stuck in here for a long time. I don’t want you to have to spend more time chained to a medberth than is absolutely necessary, either.” Sunstorm nibbled the rust stick, optics wide. “We know how young you are, so we can’t just turn you out either.”

“I’m grown up enough to survive!” Ratchet suppressed his smile. Despite his upgraded frame, Sunstorm looked absurdly young when he said that.

“Oh, kid. You are only eighty vorns old, you shouldn’t even be in an adult frame yet.” He reached a servo out and cupped Sunstorm’s cheek. “You’re not old enough to live alone by anyone's measure, no matter how grown-up you look.” Sunstorm just started at him with big bright optics.

“I’m not that young!”

“You really are. And Prime has decreed that you will have to have a caretaker until you are legally an adult.” Ratchet was pleased with the reference to Optimus. Sunstorm’s awe of the Autobot leader might make him more willing to listen to what Ratchet had to tell him. “Now, I’ve told Optimus I’m willing to be your caretaker. You’re a well behaved sparkling.” Sunstorm made a little noise of protest at the description, and Ratchet snorted slightly. “Don’t give me that!”

“What about my trine?”

“You will be allowed to see them, but you need someone to look after you now, and until we are sure they won’t be a danger to anyone, they will be staying in the detention blocks.” Ratchet patted Sunstorm’s knee. “Don’t worry about it, you will get to see them soon. Now, before you will be allowed out of here, Optimus insists you have a set of stasis generators fitted.” 

“No...please…Not that.” Sunstorm scrambled backwards, only to be brought up short by the chain. “Please!”

“Sunstorm!” Ratchet grabbed the flailing servo’s, pushing them down. “Calm down.” The young mech’s vents heaved, dumping heated air. “Calm! Vent properly.” He held the servo’s down. “That’s it, nice even vents. That’s right. You’re doing fine, deep vents. That’s it.” Sunstorm’s ragged venting began to even out and Ratchet let his servo’s go. “You calm now?”

“Yes.” He looked up at Ratchet, optics overly bright. “I’ll be good, I promise.” Seeing the way he was trembling Ratchet perched on the berth next to him, pulling in for a hug. Sunstorm stiffened, but didn’t move and eventually relaxed into the embrace. His helm dropped to rest on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“You understand the generators are not negotiable, don’t you? It won’t hurt. I’ll install them while you’re in stasis.” Sunstorm trembled again, and gave a little frightened noise. “It won’t hurt, it won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Why?” There was a world of fear, hurt and bewilderment in that one word. It shot a dagger of pain into Ratchet’s own spark and he tried to find a way to explain.

“It's not that I don't trust you, but we have a lot of mechs, neutrals and Autobots, who don't trust any Decepticons. They might try to hurt you if they think you are dangerous.” Sunstorm began to protest. “The generators are a way to make sure they feel safe, and keep you safe from them.” He hugged the young mech more tightly, feeling the fear in his field, before releasing him. “I'm going to let you think about it. You can have someone with you when you go into stasis, if you want.”

Sunstorm nodded and Ratchet slid from the berth, giving him a last pat on the shoulder before deactivating the privacy field.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a game is played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is attempting a different tactic to get Thundercracker talking to him. Jazz is giving himself a helm ache. Skywarp is showing that he isn't stupid and Sunstorm would just like to go hide now!
> 
> Thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta read and inspiration!

Jazz gave a sparkfelt groan, rolling his shoulders and working out the crimps from his tensed lines. He stood, working himself into a full frame stretch, fluffing out his plating and giving it a shake to re-settle it. He had been sat hunched over a data pad for three jours, puzzling through the glyphs found in Thundercracker’s data pad.

The glyphs themselves were... just odd. Almost Cybertronian, but strangely formed. Jazz would spot something that looked recognisable, but always out of context and unrelated to the glyphs around it.

Jazz wondered whether Thundercracker had ever been used by the Decepticons to encrypt sensitive data. Based on this single data pad, the blue seeker would have been fantastic at it. Jazz was no slouch at decryption, but this was something he had never seen before.

Powering the data pad down, he decided to grab a cube (without any unpleasantly sour supplements, thank you Ratchet) and watch a vid. He hoped that a pause to think about it might help when he started again next cycle.

**********************************************************************  
Thundercracker was quiet as he drank his energon. Prowl was not surprised. He suspected that the mech was battling the social protocols activated by his time with Skywarp, and probably worrying about his trine mate. Having the black mech travel back to the Nemesis with the Autobots was a calculated risk, although Skywarp and Thundercracker probably had a different view of it. 

Fortunately, the previous cycle’s recharge period did not appear to have resulted in another bad flux for the blue seeker.

Prowl pondered what do do. Allowing Thundercracker to continue hiding in his room when he was feeling uncomfortable was clearly not a long term strategy. The young mech was putting up much less fuss at having to come out of his room for energon, but he was still reluctant to talk.

Prowl wasn’t even sure what he could talk to the young mech about. Thundercracker had made it abundantly clear that Vos, and by extension his sparklinghood, his trine and his creators were not topics the young mech would discuss with an Autobot. It was also unlikely that Thundercracker had had much exposure to music, art or even entertainment vids. It was possible he might have an interest in playing games, or the reconstruction of Cybertron, but this was speculative at best.

Finding out what Thundercracker had done for entertainment with the Decepticons would be a useful start.

The seeker finished his cube and stood, turning to head back to his room. Prowl stood as well and placed a restraining servo on his arm. Thundercracker stiffened, wings hiking up, and he turned quickly to face the Autobot. His expression was neutral, but his field swirled with fear.

“I’d like you to stay out here, please, Thundercracker.” Prowl dropped his servo. The fear began to give way to anger, so he continued quickly, “I’d like to get to know you a little better.” Anger became confusion, and Thundercracker’s wings twitched. Prowl decided to capitalise on the seeker’s bewilderment. “I thought we could play a game...a board game,” he clarified. The mention of a game caused the fear to spike again, although Prowl was at a loss to understand why.

The fear Thundercracker had felt when Prowl touched him flooded back when the Autobot mentioned playing a game. Megatron had been fond of ‘games’ played with his favourite blue seeker. Games which had resulted in Thundercracker on his back on the berth with his servo’s restrained while the Decepticon leader pried his chestplates apart to get to his spark.

These were the sort of games the young seekers had been warned that the Autobots would also like to play with pretty flyers. Thundercracker’s fuel pump sped up, and his thrusters started whining.

Prowl catalogued the reaction, at a loss to understand what had caused it. 'Game’ obviously meant something unpleasant to the young seeker. Belatedly, he wondered what sort of other 'games’ were popular among the Decepticons.

“Do you play Tactica? Or Empire? Or Hax?” Prowl attempted to divert Thundercracker's attention back to the idea of a board game. The last thing he wanted was for the mech to bolt back to his room. “I have some Earth games as well if you prefer.” The whining engine throttled back as the seeker switched from fearful to confused again. “Thundercracker?”

“Tactica.” 

Prowl relaxed slightly, doorwings twitching in mild surprise. He hadn't expected a reply to come so easily or so quickly. Tactica wasn't the easiest game, and Prowl enjoyed it for the challenge. It would be interesting to see how good Thundercracker was. The game required a degree of luck, as well as skill, ensuring that he would probably be evenly matched against the seeker.

“Come and sit back down and I’ll get my set.” He waited for Thundercracker to move before heading into his room to find the board and tokens. He half expected that the young mech would have gone back to his room when he returned. Thundercracker still stood, looking conflicted. His expression returned to neutrality when he saw Prowl, but the tactician suspected that the seeker was becoming bored with sitting alone in his room.

“Do you want to play one, or two levels?” He asked, his own expression equally neutral. Inside, he was very interested in the answer. Two-level Tactica was a much more complex game, and if Thundercracker was able to play, it would be far more interesting.

“Two levels.” Thundercracker was clearly wary, but the sight of the Tactica set seemed to have reassured him. 

“Very well, would you like to help me set the board?” Thundercracker approached and took the seat opposite Prowl. He kept sneaking glances at the Autobot so Prowl kept his own optics on the placement of pieces. Too much attention would probably cause the seeker to retreat, which would defeat the object of the exercise.

Thundercracker wasn’t entirely sure why he was humouring Prowl instead of going back to his room, but the thought of being alone made him more uneasy than being in the company of an Autobot. He knew it was a holdover from seeing Skywarp. He could feel his trine mate’s unease, and suspected that the black seeker was already in the medbay, being prodded by Ratchet.

“Blue or gold?” Prowl asked when the pieces were set. Thundercracker looked at the boards, calculating openings.

“Blue.” He said at length.

“Very well. My move first, then.”

The first game was played in silence. Thundercracker was concentrating on the game, and getting the measure of Prowl an an opponent. Prowl was considering how to get Thundercracker to talk.

Prowl won, by a narrow margin. An unlucky board change imprisoned two of Thundercracker’s strongest pieces for three turns, forcing him to play defensively.

“Well played. Would you like another game?” Thundercracker nodded, collecting the discarded pieces and beginning to reset the board. Prowl didn’t allow his triumph to show except in a smug twitch of his door wings, which he saved for when Thundercracker was not watching.

Thundercracker won the second game, although Prowl had held back from making one or two moves which would have given the seeker a lot of trouble. He was pleased to see the mech beginning to reset the board a third time without prompting. Prowl opted to attempt a little more conversation.

“You are very good at this. Who taught you to play?” He asked as Thundercracker reached for his first piece.

“Starscream,” admitted Thundercracker after a pause. Prowl hummed in a non committal manner, picking up a piece for his own first move. He filed the information away for future reference.

“Does Skywarp enjoy this sort of game?” asked Prowl after another couple of moves. He figured gentle, game related questions were the best method to find some more common ground. He glanced up briefly at Thundercracker, but the seeker was studying the board.

“Sometimes.” Thundercracker seemed to answer without thinking and Prowl quieted again, all too aware that the wrong question would cause him to retreat into silence.

Game three went to Thundercracker after Prowl lost three major pieces in as many moves. The blue seeker glanced up at him before setting up the board for the fourth time. Prowl gave him a small smile and began sorting the pieces. Thundercracker gave a little half smile back and Prowl could feel that his field was more relaxed than it had been before. He debated trying a more intimate question. The young mech might take offence, but Prowl’s tactical computer pinged back very strong odds that he would answer.

“Which games do you prefer? I’ll see if I can get them if I haven’t got a copy already.” He kept his optics on the board, not wanting Thundercracker to feel pressured into responding.

Thundercracker was quiet for so long that Prowl began the suspect he was not going to answer, but then: “Empire, Calixus Two and Blackspire.” A tactical game, one Prowl had never played, and a reflex and skill based one, interesting.

“I’ve got an Empire set, and I think Ratchet has Blackspire, but I’ve not played Calixus Two.” He decided to see if Thundercracker would give him anything more. “Do you have a set on the Nemesis?”

“Yeah.” Thundercracker’s voice was soft, Prowl suspected that the blue mech would not answer any further questions, but it gave him another angle to work on later.

************************************************************************  
Skywarp fidgeted. Ironhide had a firm grip on his arm as they crossed the open space between the base and the heavily shielded bunker where the Space Bridge was located. He wanted to stop, to take a click to look up at the sky and savour the sensation of space around him. Ironhide urged him onwards, pace fast enough that he had to trot to keep up. The speed was a little painful on the cables in his peds and the edge of his thrusters, but he didn’t mention it. He tried to put as little weight as possible on his thrusters. They hurt where they joined his turbine housing, making every step sore. Skywarp thought one might even be cracked, but he wasn’t about to tell Ironhide. Better to let his self repair take care of it than risk Ratchet finding out.

There were mechs moving around the area, some of whom gave them suspicious looks. Ironhide was ignoring them, but Skywarp treated them to equally suspicious, if swift, scrutiny. If someone was going to try to jump on him he wanted to have seen it coming.

Ironhide hustled him to the well guarded doors of the bunker, and pinged his clearance and credentials to the mechs stood to attention outside them. The Autobots on duty gave Skywarp nasty looks as one of them transmitted the entry request, and the seeker threw them a particularly cocky grin, not wanting to show weakness. Skywarp thought he recognised one of the two as someone who had guarded the detention block. The mech shifted, but stilled when Ironhide gave him an impassive look. News like the Autobots’ toughest front-line general got around. 

“Are you sure you should let that 'Con wander around here without stasis cuffs?” The second guard had clearly not received the memo. “Um...sir,” he added, when Ironhide growled. His colleague attempted to subtly attract his attention, and the two passed a brief comm conversation under Ironhide's glower.

“Sorry, sir. Black-Top spoke without thinking... you are both expected.” The first guard stood aside, keying the door to slide open.

“Thank you.” Ironhide tugged Skywarp through the door and it closed behind them. The seeker looked around at the narrow grey corridor and his wings twitched, not liking the sensation of such close quarters after the open sky above him. “Come on!” Ironhide began leading him down the corridor.

The space bridge was located in the middle of the bunker, through a set of blast-proof doors guarded by a bored-looking Bumblebee. The yellow Autobot stared at Skywarp with wide optics, but didn't say anything. Ironhide patted the minibot on his shoulder as he passed, bestowing a fond smile on the small mech.

The space bridge looked, to Skywarp’s experienced optics, suspiciously jerry-rigged. Worse, the distinctive helm fins of the Autobots’ most infamous engineer-come-accidental demolitions expert poked up from behind a console when they entered. Skywarp stumbled to a stop, a flash of pain from his thrusters sending a bolt up his backstrut. He caught his field ruthlessly before it could bloom with the sensation, but Ironhide caught it.

“Ya hurt?”

“No,” Skywarp lied quickly. Ironhide looked sceptical, so he tried to elaborate “Tripped.” 

“If ya sure?” Skywarp just nodded. The first sharp pain had faded, leaving a nagging ache behind. Briefly, he wondered if his thrusters were more damaged than he had thought, but his self repair wasn’t pinging him with warnings, so it was probably alright.

Wheeljack waved cheerfully at Ironhide, and ducked back down behind the console. Skywarp eyed the tangle of wires sceptically. It didn’t look like it would actually work, and if it did work, he wasn’t sure it would actually take them to where they expected to go.

More Autobots arrived, including Jazz, who made a beeline to where Skywarp stood with Ironhide. The saboteur was looking surprisingly relaxed about taking a trip across light-years worth of universe using a space bridge apparently held together by string and prayers to Primus. Jazz patted his wing as he passed, before handing Ironhide a data pad.

“Mission specs,” he said with a grin. “An’ I really want Skywarp t’ take a look at th’ co-ordinates we’re using b’fore we leave. Y’ok wi’ that?” He turned to Skywarp as he spoke, and the seeker took a step back. Ironhide tensed slightly, anticipating a break for freedom by the young mech. Skywarp remained still, glancing between Jazz and his caretaker, and Ironhide deliberately relaxed.

“’K,” the seeker muttered, after a pause.

“Here y’go.” Jazz pulled a data pad from his subspace and handed it over. Skywarp took it, giving the Autobot a nervous look. Ironhide caught Jazz’s optic and they shared a small grin. Skywarp was looking at the data pad consideringly.

::How much is he going to have to read? I’m not sure how good he is.::

::Not much, it’s mostly numbers and map.::

::Do we want him to talk to ‘Jack?:: Ironhide watched the seeker, who was looking at the pad with a small frown. ::I’m not sure how he’s going to feel about that.::

::I’d feel happier if ‘Jackie took a look. He put the hardware and software together after all.::

“Skywarp?” Ironhide reached out and patted the seeker on his arm. Skywarp's helm jerked up and he stared at his caretaker nervously. Ironhide gave him a reassuring smile. “When ya’ve finished checkin’ th’ numbers ah need ya ta go over them wi’ Wheeljack.” There was a general tensing of Skywarp's armour and wings. Ironhide wasn't sure what the issue was this time, but opted not to bring it up. “'Jack set th’ space bridge up an’ ah know he wants ta make sure th’ coordinates are right.” He started carefully leading Skywarp to where the engineer was standing in the nest of cables. Skywarp couldn't help but notice that the mech was being given quite a wide berth by his fellow Autobots.

The seeker didn't blame them for their caution. Engineers and scientists were notorious among the Decepticons for being deceptively dangerous. Hook was a perfectionist who would never be satisfied when an unlucky mech wound up on his medberth, Mixmaster was notorious for trialing dangerous chemical mixes on unsuspecting victims, Starscream was volatile on a good cycle and Shockwave, Skywarp suppressed a shiver, well Shockwave was something else entirely.

Wheeljack popped up from behind the console again as Ironhide urged Skywarp closer.

“Hey, 'Hide.” The white mech's helm fins lit up blue in time with his voice. “Hi, Skywarp.” Despite the mask hiding most of his lower face, Skywarp got the distinct impression that Wheeljack was smiling. Ironhide certainly was. If the grin creasing his faceplates was anything to go by, he liked the engineer.

“Hey 'Jack. Skywarp here has run through th’ coordinates for ya.”

“Great.” Wheeljack held his servo out to Skywarp, beckoning him closer. The seeker watched him warily, and Ironhide gently propelled him towards the other mech. Skywarp took a small step forward, then another, aware that Ironhide was turning away and moving back towards the little knot of Autobots. He took a shaky in-vent, aware of the wires surrounding Wheeljack and placing his thrusters carefully.

“What’ve you got?” Wheeljack disentangled himself from the guts of the console and patted Skywarp's arm.

“Um.” He handed the Autobot the data pad, pointing to the vertical axis coordinates. “It's too high.”

“Ok, what should it be?”

“143.683.234.” The answer was confident. More so than Skywarp's expression suggested. “Th’ Nemesis is sinking down.”

“Oh! Ok, is it rolling? 'Cos then the lateral coordinates will be out as well.”

“S’not rolling, jus’ sinking down.”

“Ok, you want to help me reprogram the console?” Skywarp nodded, stepping into the tangled wires.

*******************************************************************************  
Sunstorm watched Ratchet warily as the medic approached. The conversation they had had the previous cycle left him nervous. He didn’t want to be stuck in the medbay for a long time. Being in a medbay and unable to get away usually had unpleasant consequences. Shockwave had frequently spent time tinkering with his frame and internals. Sunstorm thought that the purple scientist had treated the little “adjustments” he had made, and the painful readings he had taken, as an amusing side project. Something to keep him occupied while waiting for some of his “real” experiments to finish.

He didn’t want to be in the same situation with Ratchet. Granted, the Autobot hadn’t done anything to him yet, and had even allowed him a bit of freedom, but the anticipation was almost worse than the pain. He didn't want to be stuck with a medic for a long time.

Ratchet had a cube of energon in his servo, which he handed to the young mech on the berth. Sunstorm took it. His tanks were more than half full, and Ratchet had given him three cubes during the previous cycle. This much energon was unnerving. The seekers on Cybertron had been on half rations most of the time. Megatron sent a steady stream from Earth, but Shockwave used it for his projects. The mechs stationed on the planet had periodically been placed in stasis to conserve energon.

When Sunstorm had been taken to Shockwave’s combined medbay/ lab/ torture chamber the purple scientist would wait until he was almost in stasis before refuelling him, normally by a line directly into his systems, but on a couple of memorable (and horrible) occasions, Shockwave had forcibly refueled him by means of a tube in the intake.

“Drink up.” Ratchet patted his shoulder, clearly waiting to ensure that he actually drank the cube. Not that he would be able to put it into his subspace, much as he would like to. It had been locked down with his comms and thrusters.

He took a small sip, rolling it around his chemoreceptors. Like the previous cubes, it was slightly sour with magnesium and the earthy, grittiness of barium. It was very different from the bland, flavourless energon shipped from Earth, not exactly unpleasant, but strange.

Ratchet came to perch on the berth next to him, and Sunstorm obediently shuffled up to make room. The medic pulled his own cube from subspace, drinking it quickly. Sunstorm took a slightly larger pull from his own cube. It felt good to have enough energon that his tanks weren’t pinging him with low fuel warnings. 

The one time Shockwave had filled his tanks, it had been for a long and horribly painful procedure involving his spark. Sunstorm didn’t know what the scientist had been doing, but he vividly remembered the fear and pain.

“Are you alright?” Ratchet asked as he registered the change in Sunstorm’s field. The young seeker had lowered his cube, and was looking at it suspiciously.

“My tanks are full, I’ll drink the rest later.” Sunstorm made to put the cube on the little table by the berth, but Ratchet intercepted his servo. 

“I’m not sure you’re telling me the truth.” The tremor that ran through Sunstorm’s field told him that he was correct. “Remember, I am a medic. I know how different frame types consume fuel. Flyers are notorious for burning through fuel twice as fast as ground based frames.” Ratchet paused and looked sternly at the golden mech. “I’m not keen on being lied to.”

“I…” Whatever Sunstorm intended to say died in his vocaliser, and he stared down at the cube in his servos. Ratchet put a friendly arm around his shoulders.

“I want you to finish that cube, ok?”

Sunstorm dutifully brought it back to his mouth, taking another swallow, aware of Ratchet’s optics on him. The medic’s regard worried him. He wondered why Ratchet was so insistent that he take so much energon. He wasn’t sure it would be anything good.

“Good kid” Ratchet watched Sunstorm finish the cube. “Now, I want to install the generators this cycle if possible.” He grabbed the seeker’s servo to prevent the frantic retreat that was threatened as panic flashed through Sunstorm’s field. “None of that! If you have anything you are worried about, you need to ask me.”

The golden frame trembled, plating clamped tight, and vents hitching. Ratchet pulled him into his arms, crooning reassurances and Sunstorm gave a helpless little whimper. One red servo stroked the back of the seeker’s neck, brushing the medical port gently. Sunstorm flinched away from his touch with another wordless protest.

“It’s ok.” Ratchet pulled back to look Sunstorm in the optic. “You’re allowed to be frightened, I know you don’t like being in medbay.” Gold optics, so bright they were washed to a pale topaz colour, stared at him. “I’ll call Prowl and get him to bring Thundercracker down to stay with you if you want.” Ratchet wasn’t sure how cooperative Thundercracker would be, but if nothing else it would distract Sunstorm.

“Yes, please.” Sunstorm hung his helm, not wanting to make Ratchet any angrier. The medic gently tweaked his wingtip before turning away.

“I’ll contact Prowl.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which medicine is practiced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly early update this week!
> 
> Also Blurr and his veryveryfasttalking!

The Nemesis bridge was much as Skywarp remembered it, although admittedly there were more Autobots than would ordinarily have been tolerated. There had been a small disturbance among the three Autobots who had arrived with Kup, and Ironhide had sighed and crossed to the little group, comming Skywarp to let him know that Jazz would be taking him through the space bridge. 

There had been some angry gesturing from the big green helo, snarling and bristling from Sunstreaker, and some stamping and nervous twitching from the small red racing frame. Skywarp wasn't sure what the issue was, but Ironhide had been standing with his arms folded, and Kup had been learning against a wall, looking unimpressed. 

On the Cybertronian side of the space bridge, Ironhide allowed Springer and Sunstreaker to get their histrionics out of the way. Hot Rod was being sternly talked to by Kup, and the small racer looked like he regretted his earlier petulance. Kup dismissed him, gesturing towards the space bridge and turning back towards the two other frontliners.

Springer was still ranting about how dangerous it was to trust coordinates set by a Decepticon. Sunstreaker was standing at his shoulder, scowling. The yellow twin was more taciturn than the volatile Helo, but clearly agreed with the torrent of angry words pouring forth.

Ironhide finally held up a servo for silence, quelling the two mechs in front of him with a hard look. “Ya realise that Jazz jus’ commed me? They’re on th’ Nemesis an’ want ta know wha’ th’ hold-up is! Now...ya want ta explain ta me wha’ ya issue is?”

Springer wound down, deflating almost ludicrously at Ironhide’s words, but Sunstreaker bristled in irritation.

“I can’t believe you are willing to trust a ‘Con, ‘Hide!” Sunstreaker spat the word ‘Con like it tasted unpleasant. “Surely you haven’t forgotten Simfur, or Praxius?”

Ironhide suppressed the anger trying to bubble up. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been younglings when Simfur was besieged by the Decepticons. They had been trapped in the city with the remaining neutrals and the small Autobot garrison. The young mechs had been dragged to the Autobot brig for stealing energon when supplies had become scarce during the siege, and Ironhide, as the garrison commander, had taken pity on them. That didn’t mean he was willing to tolerate such blatant insubordination.

“Ya really want ta take tha’ tone wi’ me, soldier? Ah can have ya on punishment detail fer th’ next vorn if ya don’ take care.” Sunstreaker’s plating flared aggressively, but he wisely shut his mouth and muted his vocaliser. “Are ya both ready ta come through th’ space bridge wi’ us?” He felt Kup shift beside him, fixing both mechs with a glare which didn’t bode well for further disobedience. “Or ah can git another couple’a mechs ta come and reassign ya both ta th’ clean-up squads fer th’ foreseeable future. Ya choice!”

Springer huffed in irritation and stomped past his superiors to the space bridge. Kup turned to follow him, pinging Ironhide a comm with an assurance that he would see to the green mech’s disciplinary issues as soon as possible.

Sunstreaker faced off against Ironhide for a couple of nanoclicks more, then settled his ruffled plating back down and stalked to the space bridge, radiating offended dignity. Ironhide shook his helm and followed the yellow mech through the bridge, hoping that Skywarp had been behaving himself while he dealt with the little drama.

***************************************************************  
Sunstorm hid under his blanket. It was silly and childish and totally ineffective, but he did it anyway. The anticipation was killing him and he just wanted to get the painful part of being in the medbay started. The uncharacteristic gentleness from a medic was becoming more frightening and he wanted to force the Autobots into action. He heard Ratchet cross the medbay, clearly coming to check on him. He curled up more tightly, tensing as Ratchet’s servo came to rest gently on one of his wings. This sort of behaviour had always infuriated Shockwave.

“How are you feeling, kid?” The young seeker didn't move. Ratchet sighed and removed his servo. The berth dipped as the medic lowered himself onto it, and his servo snaked under the blanket to rest on Sunstorm's helm. “Do you want a rust stick?” There was a little twitch from one of the wings under the blanket, but Sunstorm didn't emerge. Ratchet stroked the back of the seeker’s neck, running his digits over the medical port. Sunstorm gave another little movement. “Come on, kiddo.” With his other servo, Ratchet crinkled the packet of rust sticks enticingly, and Sunstorm pulled the blanket away from his helm to stare up at him.

“Can I have two?” He hoped to try bargaining with the medic. Getting a minor concession now would probably help later when trying to get more important things from the Autobots. Ratchet tweaked his wingtip in gentle reproof.

“No, you can have one. They are a reward for good behaviour. If you want to let me do a quick sync and scan of your systems you can have another when I'm done.” Ratchet knew exactly what Sunstorm was attempting, and was keen to nip it in the bud. That type of bargaining and trading favours would not be conducive to Sunstorm growing up to understand normal, healthy relationships. 

In response, Sunstorm flipped the blanket back over his helm and huffed. He was absolutely not keen on allowing Ratchet to access any of his systems. He knew exactly how much it would hurt. Ratchet pulled the blanket back down again, and Sunstorm pouted up at him. Ratchet could feel the subtle buzz of anticipatory fear in his field, and instinctively pulled the young mech upright for another hug.

“I don't have to scan you right now, but I am going to need to do so before you go into stasis.” He could feel Sunstorm shaking and flooded his own field with reassurance. “It won't hurt. I’ll sync with your system first so your firewalls will recognise me.” There was a little whimper, but as it was not accompanied by wriggling and an attempt to escape, Ratchet ignored it, concentrating on soothing Sunstorm's fear.

They were interrupted by the entrance of two Autobots. The smaller of the two, a sleek blue and silver race frame, was limping heavily and leaning on his much larger companion. Ratchet had disentangled himself and was halfway across the medbay before the bigger mech had deposited his smaller companion on a berth.

“HiRatchet, I’mreallyreallysorry, butItrippedandnowmyanklejointwon’ttakemyweightandithurts!” The sentence was gabbled out with scant regard for such niceties as pausing, venting or ensuring that any listeners could understand. Only one Autobot had that particular vocal glitch.

“Hey, Blurr.” He arranged Blurr’s peds on the berth. “Do you want me to put a privacy field up?”

“Noit’sok, it’sjustmyanklejoint. I’mreallysorry, IknowIsaidIwouldn’tdosomethinglikethisagain, butthegroundwasreallyuneven, andMagnuswantedtheinformationquickly.” Ratchet’s optics darted sideways to the large figure of Ultra Magnus, who had carried the racer into the medbay.

“He wasn’t doing anything especially dangerous, Ratchet. It was just a bad bit of road.” The big Autobot gave the medic a small smile. “I shall head back to my duties now that Blurr is being looked after.”

“Thank you, Magnus.” Ratchet nodded to his fellow officer. “I’ll have Blurr back on his peds soon.”

“Thank you, Ratchet.” Ultra Magnus inclined his helm and turned smartly to leave, giving Blurr a small squeeze to his shoulder as he went. 

Blurr’s optics roamed the medbay as Ratchet gently plugged into his medical port, starting the scan which would show him any deep damage to the delicate ankle joint. He caught Sunstorm's optics and gave the young seeker a grin and a small wave with his free servo. Sunstorm watched him solemnly, not returning the smile. The Autobot didn’t seem to be in any discomfort from Ratchet’s scan and Sunstorm was curious.

“It looks like you’ve pulled the joint out of alignment, dented the armour and snapped a couple of wires, but the tensor cable is fine. You went right over on it didn’t you?” He uncoupled his cable, picking up one of Blurr’s servos and examining the scrapes across the palm. “I’m going to check under these plates for any shards when I’m done with your ankle. You stay there.” He straightened, turning away and heading for his office. Blurr slid from the berth as soon as Ratchet had disappeared, clinging to the berth and hopping his way across the room to Sunstorm’s berth.

“HiI’mBlurr, IguessyoumustbeSunstorm.” The gold seeker pulled back slightly, taken aback by the torrent of words.

“Um...Hi?” He was not entirely sure if he should be talking to this mech. He had heard Ratchet explicitly tell him not to move, but here he was halfway across the medbay. He began worrying that Ratchet would blame him for Blurr’s disobedience. It was irrational, but his fear began to rise. 

“UltraMagnusmentionedyou. Isittrueyouarejustakid? ThatsuckswhatMegatrondidtoyou, no-oneisokwiththat!” Blurr pulled himself onto Sunstorm’s berth as he spoke. Sunstorm shuffled up to give him some room, freezing as he saw Ratchet stalking towards them. The medic was holding some wires, mesh, a bottle of solvent and a couple of tools. Sunstorm gave an unconscious little whimper. Blurr looked up at Ratchet, and back at Sunstorm. “Youdon’tneedtoworryaboutRatchet. Hemakesthreatsbutheisalwaysreallygentle. Hewon’thurtus.” 

Sunstorm was not convinced. Ratchet was scowling at them, looking very angry. He clutched at the blanket, unable to understand how Blurr could look so unconcerned.

“I'm sure I told you not to move. Do I need to check your audials for a glitch which makes 'stay there’ sound like 'wander across the medbay on a damaged ankle joint to annoy other mechs’?” The words were chiding, but Ratchet's tone was light.

Blurr stared up at him, but wisely didn't say anything. Sunstorm, however, was pressed against the wall, as far from the irate medic as he could physically get, clutching his blanket and wishing he could hide under it. He jumped violently when Ratchet placed a servo on his thruster, unsure what to make of the lack of anger in the medic’s field. Ratchet stroked the warm metal for a moment, before reaching for Blurr.

“Since you are here, do either of you have any objections to me fixing your ankle right now?”

“Idon’tmindRatchet. It'snotlikeitisabigissue.” Blurr smiled confidently up at Ratchet. The gossip network had clearly been at work, and even more clearly had decided that Sunstorm was to be pitied and protected. Most Autobots wouldn't allow a Decepticon anywhere near them when they needed medical treatment, but Blurr was swallowing any discomfort at Sunstorm’s presence. Ratchet pinged him a wordless glyph of gratitude even as he began his inspection of the damage.

Sunstorm was still backed up against the wall, thrusters drawn up so his knees were pressed to his cockpit. His field was pulled in tightly and he was watching Ratchet worriedly. Watching the medic re-attach Skywarp’s comm was one thing, but actually seeing him perform surgery was something else. He didn’t want to be close enough to feel Blurr’s pain and fear. The Autobot seemed like a nice mech, although he was surprisingly calm. Ratchet was hardly hiding what he was about to do, after all.

“Sunstorm.” Ratchet’s voice recalled his wandering attention. The medic was holding the selecting of tools out to him. His vents hitched and Ratchet put a calming servo on one of his thrusters. “Could you hold these for me, please?” Sunstorm held out his servos and received the pile of medical equipment. He looked up at Blurr, but the racer still seemed perfectly calm.

“I’m going to deactivate the sensors in your lower leg first, if that’s alright.”

“I’mokwiththat, Ijustwantmyankletostophurting.” Blurr looked up at Ratchet with the most pathetic expression he could muster, optics huge and bright. Ratchet patted his knee, then snaked his digits gently under the plating, deactivating the sensors and making Blurr humm with relief.

“That better?”

“YesthankyouRatchetthatfeelsmuchbetter.” Blurr’s engine was purring happily.

“Good.” Ratchet began removing the plating around the joint, digits transforming to unlatch the plates. He looked up at Sunstorm, who was shifting uneasily at the head of the berth. “Could you pass me the little bottle of lubricant please?” Sunstorm handed it over, and both Autobots smiled at him. “Thank you. I’ll just dab a bit into the joint and…” He tugged the ped in his servo back into line with an audible click. “There! Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. I'll just rotate the joint to check it’s moving freely.” Ratchet did so, manipulating the ped gently. Blurr just lolled back, plating and field relaxed. “That looks alright. I’ll replace the wires.” He turned to Sunstorm, who was looking intrigued, both at the procedure, and Blurr’s lack of concern, or pain. “Could you pass me the wire please?” The golden mech obediently held out the wire, servos much steader and field calmer. “Thank you.” 

“Areyougoingtostriptheoldwiresback?” Blurr was looking curious. “I’llhavetostayoffmypedsifyoudo.” He pouted up at Ratchet who gave him an exasperated look.

“Yes, I am stripping the wires back and replacing them. Now you don’t have to be back on the front lines as soon as possible, so I can actually do a proper job and not just field repairs.” 

“ButI’mnotgoingtobeabletorunifyoudo!” 

“No, you will need to stay off your peds as much as possible for a few cycles.” Ratchet eyed the racer seriously. “You want to race again, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“In that case, you will stay off your peds for four cycles! I don’t want to be replacing snapped wires.” He patted Blurr’s knee. “It’s only four cycles.” Blurr quirked him a grin which was more of a grimace, clearly not pleased by the order, but accepting it. “Good kid.”

Sunstorm was darting glances between the two, unsure what to make of the situation. Blurr turned his pout towards the seeker, looking for sympathy. Sunstorm tentatively extended his field, filling it with understanding. He knew what being kept from flying was like, and suspected that for a race frame being kept still would be similar.

Blurr's pathetic look morphed into a smile and he reached back for Sunstorm's servo, giving it a little squeeze. Sunstorm's own lips twitched into a little smile.

Ratchet had been carefully stripping the broken wires out and cutting new ones to the correct length. Transforming his digits, he began soldering the new wires into place. Blurr and Sunstorm watched curiously. It clearly didn't hurt the blue racer, and the seeker came closer to see better. Blurr had his helm cocked to one side. He seemed detached from what was happening. Brief flares of heat and light flickered as Ratchet carefully soldered the wires, but Blurr didn’t even flinch.

“All done.” Ratchet began replacing the plating, carefully resettling it before reaching behind the racers knee joint to reactivate the sensors. “Any pain?”

“Notreally, it’sabitsorewherethesolderisstillsoft, butitdosn’thurtlikeit didbefore.”

“Good, can you slowly rotate it for me.” Ratchet held the leg up slightly, sensitive digits feeling for the smallest vibration that would indicate that the joint was not sitting correctly. “ Very good, now the other way.” Blurr obediently reversed the direction of the movement. “Ok, now stretch the front down, and now the back.” Blurr wiggled his ped up and down in time with Ratchet’s instructions. “That seems fine. Are you getting any negative feedback?”

“Noitallfeelsnormal, thanksRatchet!”

“Good. 'Aid will look at it again in three cycles. Now, let's have a look at your servos.” He began inspecting the scraped plating. Sunstorm wordlessly held out the solvent and mesh to the medic, and Ratchet took it with a smile of gratitude and a friendly brush of his field. “There are a few little splinters here. I’ll clean them out and you’ll be good to go.” The solvent was applied to the mesh, and Ratchet carefully cleaned the plating and the armour seams. Blurr squirmed a bit, but in restlessness rather than pain, so Ratchet forbore to tell him off. “All done.”

“ThanksRatchet, itfeelsmuchbetter. IpromiseI’llkeepoffitasmuchaspossible. MagnushasalreadyupdatedtherostaandI’monmonitordutyforfivecyclesnow.” The racer slumped slightly, clearly not fond of the idea, and climbed carefully off the berth. “ByeSunstorm, thanksforhelping, don’tworryaboutRatchet, hewon’thurtyou!” He waved, and walked, with exaggerated care, to the door.

“Stay off your peds as much as possible.” Ratchet warned, and received another wave in return before Blurr was out of the door. Ratchet shook his helm and turned to Sunstorm. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” The drooping wings and elevated core temperature didn't suggest that the seeker was 'fine’, but Ratchet understood. Sunstorm was confused, worried and struggling to process what he had just seen. Ratchet sat on the edge of the berth and stretched an arm out to tug the young mech into another hug.

“It's ok not to be fine, you know. I understand. I know you don't like being in the medbay, I know it scares you. I know you’ve never had any good experiences with medics, and I don’t expect you to trust me.”

Sunstorm made another little whimpering noise, burying his face in Ratchet’s shoulder. The medic rubbed little circles across his wing hinges and the seeker trembled, vents hitching again.

“Will you let me sync up with you?” Sunstorm made to pull away, and Ratchet allowed him to move a little way away. He looked frightened so Ratchet made haste to reassure him. “Just a sync, not a scan.” He took Sunstorm’s servo, cradling it in his own. “You didn’t see Blurr being hurt did you? I won’t hurt you, that’s not what medics do.”

“I haven't synced with anyone except my trine.” Sunstorm’s confession was accompanied by downcast optics. “Acid Storm doesn’t like me syncing with anyone else.” 

Ratchet stilled briefly, paging through the information he had about Sunstorm’s programming. He knew the young seeker didn’t have any interfacing protocols uploaded, but the lack of normal social syncing was unusual in a mech so young. Most mechlings would sync with their creators, mentors, medics and friends. It reinforced normal social bonds. Even adult mechs would sync with those close to them. Ratchet himself had synced with most of the Autobot army at one time or another. Unit mates frequently synced together to the point that they would no longer need to sync using their cables; their fields would start to mesh automatically. Even Decepticons synced with their unit mates.

“Why doesn’t he want you to sync with other mechs?” Preventing a sparkling from normal syncing was troubling. Ratchet knew that some mechs with sparklings would keep them from syncing outside their immediate family, but the younglings tended to have serious social issues in later life. Red Alert was a case in point. The Stunticons had similar problems, as did half a dozen other mechs that Ratchet could name.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t like other Decepticons much.”

“Hm.” Ratchet filed the information away for later, pondering the implications. He held out his servo to Sunstorm, waiting for the young mech to make up his mind.

“I miss my trine.” Sunstorm’s voice was soft and sad, and he was staring at his servos. It sent more shards of pain into Ratchet’s spark. The poor kid didn’t have anyone he could really trust apart from his trine. His short life had been full of mechs who just wanted to hurt him or use him, and he had been thrown into a war he had had no part in starting. He was so clearly trying to be brave, and endure, and comply with what was being asked of him. It made Ratchet feel like a monster for asking more of him.

“You don’t have to sync with me if you don’t want to.” It was a weak offer. Ratchet knew he would have to sync up with the seeker when he performed a scan before the young mech was put in stasis. “I just don’t want you to be frightened when I scan you later.” 

Sunstorm slowly snaked his servo into Ratchet’s. “Promise you’ll stop if it hurts?”

“Of course.” Ratchet curled his digits gently around Sunstorm’s, stroking them.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Skywarp is back on the Nemesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted to see Skywarp's quarters on the Nemesis? You got it!
> 
> Also Sunstorm being put through more trauma. I feel guilty - although clearly not guilty enough because I keep writing this!
> 
> Thank you CheerfullyMorbid, for beta reading, inspiration and random conversation!

Jazz distributed copies of Skywarp’s map and explained what the different teams would be doing. Jazz and Mirage would be seeking intel, and seeing what could be salvaged from the ship’s computer systems. Hound and Trailbreaker would head to the medbay and science labs to determine what could be of use on Cybertron. Ironhide and Skywarp would head for the personal quarters and begin logging what items would need to be removed to return them to their owners. Kup and his little team were there for the heavy lifting, and to guard the group. Jazz, Kup and Ironhide had resolved to keep that group as far away from Skywarp as possible.

“Ya want ta lead th’ way, kiddo?” Ironhide asked as the team dispersed. Kup had ordered Hot Rod and Sunstreaker to guard the space bridge entrance and was taking Springer to survey the Nemesis brig and common areas. Hound and Trailbreaker were carefully making their way to the medbay and Jazz was already attempting to crack Soundwave’s encryption on the main computers.

Skywarp twitched his wings and began heading for the main door. Ironhide opted not to take hold of him. The little tracker that Ratchet had added to his comm was pinging the Autobot regular updates on the seeker’s whereabouts. Ironhide wasn’t sure why they hadn’t thought of fitting the young mechs with trackers previously.

The black mech led his caretaker into the corridor, heading deeper into the ship. The Nemesis was laid out in a similar manner to the Ark, with the personal quarters towards the lower half and the center of the vessel. The ship still had power, so Ironhide expected that the grav tubes which would allow them access to the lower levels would be active. Skywarp clearly thought so as well as he came to a halt in front of one and pressed the level button. The tube was much too small for more than one mech at a time.

“Ah need ya ta wait for me at th’ bottom.” Skywarp glanced back at him. “Skywarp!”

“‘K.” He turned away and stepped into the tube, disappearing downwards. 

Ironhide shrugged, checking the level indicator. He wasn’t convinced that the seeker would be waiting, but the tracker would keep Ironhide aware of his position, and he would not be able to leave the ship. The tracker pinged Skywarp as moving away from the grav tube as Ironhide started his descent, not fast, but not obedient to Ironhide’s instruction either.

He stepped out of the tube to see Skywarp moving determinedly down the corridor. The disobedience irritated him, but he had not specified where the Seeker should wait for him, and he noted that the mech had paused at a junction, still in sight of the grav tube. Skywarp turned, watching him. He wasn’t challenging Ironhide, just testing the limits of his order. 

“Which way now?” Ironhide swiftly caught up with him at the corner, taking in Skywarp’s expression, which was too innocent to be true. He opted not to comment on Skywarp’s interpretation of ‘wait’.

“This way.” Skywarp turned down the right branch of the junction, leading him deeper. The corridor was lined with doors, some with glyphs scratched into the surface. Ironhide spotted Blitzwing and Octane’s designation on two doors, plus one indicating that Thrust, Ramjet and Dirge were quartered there. Other glyphs indicated other trios and other known members of the Decepticons’ aerial armada. He suspected that this was the part of the ship turned over to the flyers.

Skywarp was clearly heading for the door at the end of the corridor. It didn’t look much different to any of the doors they had passed so far, but its position suggested a larger room behind it. Ironhide surmised that the door lead to the quarters of the Air Commander. He wasn’t sure whether Skywarp and Thundercracker had shared Starscream’s living space, but given that he had told Skywarp to bring him to the black seeker’s old quarters, it seemed like a safe bet.

Skywarp hesitated before beginning to punch the unlock code into the pad. His wings effectively blocked Ironhide’s view, although the Autobot wasn’t sure whether that was deliberate. He wasn’t too worried, as he had a specially modified lock scrambler, courtesy of Jazz, in his subspace. Their initial exploration of the ship would be likely to take several cycles, and they would need to recharge somewhere. Ironhide had suggested that the team use any empty quarters on the ship rather than wasting energon hopping back and forth via space bridge.

“These ya quarters?” Ironhide asked, glancing around the surprisingly spacious room. There were a couple of desks, a work bench, a wall mounted first aid kit, a computer terminal, and shelves of data pads. There was also a small energon dispenser, with a green light showing it was full and active, and a couple of doors, one of which appeared to connect the room to the one next to it. 

“Yeah.” Skywarp was looking at him nervously. His optics darted around the room before flicking back to Ironhide.

“Ya shared wi’ ya trine?” Ironhide wanted to work the seeker round to talking about his living situation. There was only one berth in the room, although it appeared to consist of three standard sized ones lashed together with lots of padding and pillows. It looked large enough for five mechs, so Ironhide supposed it had been sufficient for three broad winged seekers.

“Yeah.” 

“Ok.” He opted to lead gently into the questions. “Wha’s behind th’ other doors?”

“Washracks.” Skywarp gestured to the furthest door. “Star’s lab.” He gestured to the door to the adjacent room. Ironhide noted the use of the nickname, ‘Star’ not ‘Screamer’. The trine were clearly more affectionate than popular report suggested.

“Alright, what sort of things ya got here?” He had spotted a rack of blades against one wall, and what was clearly a weapons locker in the corner. He would have to keep Skywarp away from those until they could be removed. 

“Stuff...” Skywarp shrugged, glancing around again. “Datapads, weapons...stuff.” Not immensely helpful, but it provided an opening.

“Ya know we can’t allow ya access ta any weapons?” Skywarp fidgeted, and Ironhide put a restraining servo on his wing. “Ya want ta tell me where they are hidden in here?” He stroked the dark metal as the seeker slumped.

“There.” He pointed to the blades. “Locker. There” He pointed towards the berth. “An’ lab.”

“Under th’ berth?”

“Yeah, ‘nother locker.”

“Good kid.” He allowed his approval into his field. He wasn’t entirely convinced that Skywarp had told him about all the weapons, but he would search himself before they settled down for recharge. “Ah’m goin’ ta collect ‘em up now. Ya sure tha’s all of ‘em?” Skywarp nodded. “Alright, can ya sit on th’ berth for me, up against th’ wall?”

Skywarp looked a bit resentful, but sat on the berth anyway, tucking his peds up and watching Ironhide suspiciously. Ironhide gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and began pulling a weapon locker out from underneath it. He commed Kup to let him know that he had found some weaponry and to request that he send someone down to their location with a crate.

Ironhide carefully placed the rack of blades in the locker, and moved it and the second one, to the centre of the floor. Skywarp moved to bring his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his thrusters. He still looked slightly sulky. 

“Ah’m goin’ ta put these outside th’ door. Ya can stay there.” Skywarp pouted, but stayed still. Ironhide maneuvered both lockers outside the room. Seeing Springer heading down the corridor towards him, he waved at the green mech and headed back into the room.

Skywarp was exactly where he had left him. Still sulky, but obedient. Ironhide smiled at him anyway. He understood why the seeker would be upset at the loss of his weapons. Sunstreaker’s open antagonism was probably making him nervous. Ironhide made a note to keep a close optic on the young mech.

“Ya want ta show me Starscream’s lab now, kiddo?” He held out a servo for the black mech to get down from the berth. Skywarp ignored it, swinging his peds to the floor and standing. Ironhide caught a tiny hiss of pain and quickly moved to support the seeker. “Ya ok?” He put a servo on Skywarp’s shoulder, noting that the seeker’s field was tightly controlled. Skywarp nodded, slipping out of his hold and crossing to the lab door and opening it. Ironhide was a little surprised that a mech as notoriously paranoid as Starscream did not keep his private lab locked.

When he got into the smaller room, he absently noted that the door to the corridor was guarded by a very serious looking lock. Turning, he realised that the door to the quarters was guarded by a similar lock, probably programmed to only open for the correct fields. He also noticed the damage to the wall above the workbench, like someone had fired a high energy weapon at someone standing at the bench.

Skywarp was watching him nervously again and Ironhide took his time to survey the lab. There were a large number of things which he suspected Hound and Trailbreaker would need to look at, and probably Jazz and Mirage.

“Is there anythin’ in here tha’ Starscream would want ta have?”

“Yeah.” He reached for a set of datafiles on one of the shelves, and then pulled down a large, ornate box. Ironhide was curious, but kept his questions to himself. 

“Is tha’ everythin’?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. We’ll look at how many storage crates we need ta pack ya stuff.”  
******************************************************************  
Sunstorm was watching the door to the medbay rather than his datapad. Ratchet had offered him the chance to have Thundercracker with him when he went into stasis. He had agreed, wanting someone he knew keeping an optic on the medic. Thundercracker was as much a prisoner as he was, but at least someone else would see what happened, and might be able to intervene.

He tensed when the door opened and Thundercracker entered, closely followed by an Autobot he did not know. The Praxian frame and black and white paint job suggested this was Prowl, the infamous Autobot second in command.

Ratchet gestured, indicating that the two mechs should follow him into his office. Prowl tugged Thundercracker forward, but the blue seeker was looking at Sunstorm. Prowl said something to him, too quietly for Sunstorm to hear, and Thundercracker's wings twitched in annoyance. He followed Ratchet and Prowl into the office, spinal strut rigid.

In the office, with the door firmly closed, Ratchet gestured for Thundercracker to take a seat. The seeker glowered at him, dropping into a chair in a manner too graceless to be anything other than deliberate.

::He's been like this since he came out of recharge.:: Prowl warned. ::We were getting along comparatively well last cycle, so I think he's being deliberately difficult.::

::Hmm, thank Primus Sunstorm doesn't feel the need to try that.::

Ratchet regarded the blue mech, who had crossed his arms and was scowling at him.

“I need your help.” Ratchet decided being blunt was the best method to get the young seeker to cooperate. His honesty was rewarded by a tilt of Thundercracker's helm and a lifting of his wings. Ratchet took it to mean that the seeker was interested. “I need you to keep Sunstorm calm while I put him in medical stasis.” The blue wings flared and Thundercracker hissed.

Prowl placed a restraining servo on Thundercracker's arm. The seeker tried to pull away, but Prowl tightened his grip. The hiked up wings dropped slightly and the glare was transferred from Ratchet to Prowl.

“Are you finished?” Ratchet allowed his irritation to enter his voice. “I’ve got a very frightened young seeker in my medbay and he has specifically asked for you to help me because he trusts you.” He glared at Thundercracker, daring him to protest. “Are you going to behave?”

The seeker gave a stiff nod and Prowl stroked down his arm, reassuring him.

“Good. I’ll give you a bit of time with Sunstorm. I want you to try to calm him down. I'm going to need to give him a proper medical scan, and he’s very nervous about it. He needs someone to hold his servo. Can you do that for me?”

Thundercracker cocked his helm again, expression carefully blank. 

::As you can probably tell he’s not happy about it.::

::No, I’ll offer to let him see Starscream. It made him more cooperative last time.::

“I'm willing to let you see Starscream when I’ve finished with Sunstorm if you like.” The seeker looked interested, but still didn't say anything. 

“Thundercracker, I’ve told you before about responding verbally.” Prowl placed a reproving servo back on Thundercracker's arm. 

“Fine! No!” Thundercracker sat back with a huff.

Ratchet glanced at Prowl, who canted his own doorwings in a small shrug. Thundercracker was clearly going to be difficult.

“Is that no, you won't help, or no, you don't want to see Starscream?”

“I won't help!”

“Why not?” There was silence from the seeker. Ratchet stood, and came around his desk to place a servo on Thundercracker's wing. 

“It's jus’ wrong.” The seeker muttered his objection, not looking at either Autobot. Ratchet moved his servo to Thundercracker's cheek, cupping it gently, letting the young mech feel his sadness and the protectiveness he felt about Sunstorm. Thundercracker felt like he was wavering, torn between his anger, and a desire to help Sunstorm.

“I know it is hard.” Ratchet spoke gently, not wanting to push too far, too fast. “But he needs someone he can trust.”

“His trine!” Thundercracker's vocaliser crackled with static. Prowl stroked the closest wing, field calm.

“They aren't really an option. They are a risk of hurting themselves or someone else.” Thundercracker frowned, obviously looking for more information, so Ratchet continued. “I don't want to upset either of them, or Sunstorm. The poor kid is distressed enough.” It was manipulative, but Ratchet wanted the seeker to understand the situation. “I really don't want him to be in the medbay longer than he needs to be.”

Thundercracker's wings dropped and he hunched forward, posture defeated. Prowl rubbed his wing hinges, engine rumbling, and Ratchet stroked his helm. The seeker gave a little growl of displeasure, but didn't pull away.

“Will you help?”

“Fine.” Thundercracker huffed, clearly not pleased, but cooperating at last.

“Good kid.” The seeker snorted at the endearment but didn't make any other comment. “I’ll give you and Sunstorm some time to chat.” He placed a servo on Thundercracker's arm, gripping to get the mech’s attention. “Please don't try to scare him, or stress him more, that is all I ask. He needs your help right now.”

Thundercracker rose in obedience to Ratchet’s tug on his arm, stalking to the door with an attitude of offended dignity. Ratchet rolled his optics at Prowl behind the seeker’s wings, irritated and amused in equal measure. Prowl twitched one of his own doorwings in a half shrug, indicating that there wasn't anything either of them could do.

Back in the medbay, Thundercracker made a beeline for Sunstorm's berth, pulling an unhappy face when he saw the chain around the gold seeker’s thruster. Sunstorm's wings lifted in greeting, but there was no mistaking the frightened expression on his face. Ratchet and Prowl kept their distance. Prowl seated himself on a chair, pulling out a data pad, Ratchet busied himself with gathering the equipment he would need and putting it in his subspace, hoping to avoid distressing Sunstorm further.

After a few clicks, Ratchet stepped closer to the berth, activating the privacy screen. Sunstorm jumped and stared at the medic, while Thundercracker glowered. Ratchet suspected that Sunstorm had told the older seeker everything. There was a brief flurry of clicks and chirps with accompanying wing twitches and Thundercracker gripped the golden servos in his own.

Ratchet reached for Sunstorm, but the two mechs on the berth shifted so Thundercracker was in between the medic and his patient. Blue wings spread and the mech growled. Ratchet backed off a short distance, comming Prowl.

::He's being difficult.::

::I suspect Sunstorm has told him what you were planning. I did notice you glossed over the details.::

:: It didn't work, that much is clear.::

::Do you need me to intervene?::

::I’ll try a bit of persuasion first, but if he is still difficult you might have to.::

“Do you want to see Starscream? Because you are not going about it the right way.” Thundercracker growled louder. “Thundercracker!” Sunstorm hissed nervously, wings rattling against the wall.

Ratchet huffed in irritation, crossing his arms and watching the two young seekers. One of Sunstorm's servos snuck forward to hold Thundercracker's upper arm. Thundercracker's field was a mess of anger and fear and guilt and the wings of both were trembling.

::They are both scared and getting stressed. I’m going to see if I can calm things down.::

::Do you need me?::

:: Not yet, I’ll call if I do.::

::Be careful.::

“Are you both finished behaving like sparklings yet?” The medics tone was dry, and unamused. “Sunstorm I can understand, but Thundercracker, you are grown up enough not to act up like that.” He put a slight sneer in his voice and didn't miss the offended expression on either mech’s faceplates. 

“I’m sorry.” Sunstorm's voice was soft, and frightened, and his wings still trembled.

“Oh kid.” Ratchet stepped around the berth, opening his arms to enfold the golden mech in a hug. “I'm not angry.” He rubbed little circles on the plating of Sunstorm's back. “I told you, it is ok to be scared.” From the corner of his optic he could see Thundercracker looking slightly nonplussed, and realised that this was not what the blue mech had been expecting. He released Sunstorm, and stepped away from the berth. “Now, who wants to tell me what is wrong?”

After a click of the two seekers trading looks and twitches of the wings, Thundercracker spoke. “I don’ want him to be grounded. It's wrong!” Ratchet resisted the urge to grab both mechs in another tight hug.

“But if we don't do this, he will get put in a cell. No-one wants that.” Ratchet’s tone was matter of fact, but he noticed the fresh stab of fear that ran through both mechs. “I'm doing all I can to prevent that, but I need your help.” Sunstorm whimpered again and Thundercracker moved to place a comforting servo on his wing. “Thundercracker, since you have upset Sunstorm when I expressly told you not to, you can help me show him that having a medical scan does not hurt.” Thundercracker's field was embarrassed, and Sunstorm pulled away slightly, still nervous.

Ratchet gently reached out and tugged Thundercracker's servo towards himself. To his surprise the seeker didn't swipe at him. His field was confused, anger, fear, embarrassment, and remorse rolling through it. Ratchet relaxed into the professional calm he used when performing scans and carefully plugged in.

“Does it hurt?” He asked as the sync began. Thundercracker shook his helm, and reached back for Sunstorm with his free servo. The young mech allowed his servo to be held. Ratchet could feel the prickles of fear skittering against his own field. The sync finished and the medical scan began. “Does it hurt now?” he asked again, trying to encourage feedback.

“No.” Thundercracker was holding Sunstorm tightly, too tight for comfort really, but the gold seeker was not complaining. Ratchet finished the scan, logging the results to add to Thundercracker's medical file.

He uncoupled his cable and held his servo out to Sunstorm, who shrank back. Thundercracker loosened his grip slightly and Ratchet met the blue seeker’s optics, giving him a little nod. Thundercracker guided Sunstorm’s servo towards Ratchet who took it gently. Thundercracker put an arm around the shaking shoulders as Sunstorm’s vents hitched.

“You’ve seen it doesn’t hurt, and we synced earlier, so you know that doesn’t hurt. I promise the worst you are going to feel is a tingle.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Ratchet hid his surprise at Thundercracker’s assurance. Sunstorm glanced at the older seeker doubtfully, and Thundercracker tightened his hug briefly. Ratchet gently connected the cable, petting Sunstorm’s servo.

“I’m going to sync up with you again now. Are you alright?”

Sunstorm gave a tiny nod, whole body shaking. He clearly wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t struggling to escape. Thundercracker rumbled his engine, frequency low and purring. Ratchet was more used to the faster angry noise or higher pitched fear response from the blue mech, so he presumed that he was trying to comfort Sunstorm.

“Does it hurt?” He started the sync, feeling Sunstorm stiffen as he did so, but the seeker shook his helm, clearly not trusting his vocaliser. The sync finished quickly, and finally Ratchet began receiving direct medical data about his new charge. As he expected, there was an elevated core temperature and accelerating spark pulse due to stress, but the young mech was very healthy. His systems showed signs, common among Decepticons, of historical malnutrition, but regular energon would assist with that. Sunstorm was not in any additional distress, so Ratchet disconnected his cables when the scan finished.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“No.” The trembling decreased slightly and Sunstorm started to relax. Ratchet suspected that he had forgotten the next step. He pulled the stasis chip he had programmed previously from his subspace and concealed it carefully in his servo before reaching for the port at the back of Sunstorm’s helm and plugging it in. The gold mech stiffened, but then his frame went slack and his optics began to power down as the coding forced him into stasis.

With Thundercracker’s assistance, Ratchet arranged Sunstorm on the berth. He instructed the blue seeker to sit on the chair by the berth before un-subspacing his tools and getting to work.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a long awaited event comes to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 chapters? How did that happen? 
> 
> As ever, thanks go to CheerfullyMorbid for beta reading, random questions, and inspiration. :)

Ironhide shepherded Skywarp back to the trine’s quarters. They’d spent the past jour in one of the Nemesis rec rooms, drinking their energon and making small talk with the rest of the team. Ironhide had done most of the talking. Skywarp had spent much of the time in wary silence, watching the Autobots. Kup had instructed Springer and Sunstreaker to guard the space bridge, so Skywarp was spared their deliberate antagonism.

When Skywarp let them into the room, Ironhide placed the scrambler on the door, setting it so that it would only allow the door to open when the correct code was input. Skywarp watched, worried, as the Autobot did the same to the door to Starscream's lab. He wasn't keen on being trapped with Ironhide in a far smaller space than usual.

“Ya tired?” Skywarp just shook his helm mutely. He didn't want to think about the fact that the room only had one berth, albeit a large one. Ironhide looked around the room, searching for inspiration. “What did ya do wi’ ya trine when ya were all t’gether in ya quarters?” Skywarp suppressed the memories of leisurely grooming sessions and cuddling on the berth with one or both of his trine mates.

“Played games.” He admitted at length, that at least seemed safe enough. “Read, stuff like that.” He carefully failed to mention that Starscream was frequently the one who read out loud, translating where necessary, or the quiet lessons where his white trine mate would help him write reports, treating him with a patience that most mechs would not believe of the temperamental second in command.

“What sort of games?” Despite his fear, Skywarp had proved to have a good grasp of the rules and tactics involved in playing Empire when Optimus had shown him how to play. If it was something the young seeker was used to doing before recharge then it might help to relax him in this uncomfortable situation.

“Re-draw.” Skywarp admitted. “And Calixus.” With his advanced mapping software a drawing based game like Re-draw was not a surprise. Ironhide vaguely recognised Calixus as some sort of mercantile game, popular before the war, but almost unheard of now because it didn't involve tactics. With a faint jolt, he realised again just how much the war had changed their culture. Even the games they played were as much to do with honing fighting skills as relaxing.

“Ya got either of them here? Ah’m not much good at Re-draw an’ ah’ve never played Calixus but it’ll be good ta do somethin’ tha’ isn't jus’ staring at th’ wall in silence.”

In answer, Skywarp crouched to reach under the berth, pulling a couple of boxes out, mutely offering them to Ironhide. He took them. The first one contained a set of datapads and some styluses. The second box contained the board and credit chips used in Calixus. Skywarp looked at him, clearly expecting him to make a decision.

“Ya want ta show me how ta play Calixus?” Ironhide asked. “Where d’ya usually set up?”

“Um...on th’ berth.” Skywarp gestured to the wide surface, not looking at Ironhide.

“Ok.” Ironhide stood aside, allowing Skywarp to climb onto the berth. The seeker seated himself by the wall, curling his legs under himself and Ironhide perched himself at the opposite corner, placing the box between them. The second box was placed out of the way beside Ironhide. “Ya want ta show me how ta set th’ board up?”

Skywarp began setting up, giving short answers to Ironhide’s questions. The explanation of the rules was stilted and, if Ironhide had had any suspicions about Skywarp’s language skills not being quite up to par, it would probably have increased them exponentially.

Skywarp was surprisingly good at the game, making shrewd decisions and easily collecting more credits than Ironhide, who was more focussed on stockpiling goods.

“Who normally wins when ya play?” He asked after a few turns.

“TC.” Skywarp admitted. “He’s good.” Ironhide filed the information away to tell Prowl. Business skills were relatively rare after vorns of war and, while Cybertron’s economy was in the early stages of recovery, it would need mechs with business acumen to help it along.

“You’re pretty good at this game.” Ironhide tried a compliment, and Skywarp preened.

“Star taught us.” He volunteered. “He’s good at that.”

“What sort of things d’ya read?” Given Skywarp’s lack of interest in even looking at Ironhide’s collection of data pads, he was curious. Skywarp just looked down, concentrating on the board, not answering the question. Ironhide took a guess at what the silence meant. “D’ya prefer ta listen ta someone else readin'? Ah can read ya somethin’ if ya like.”

Skywarp just put down his final counters on the board, adding the score to the credit chip and showing the total to Ironhide wordlessly.

“Ya win.” Ironhide displayed his own, much lower, total. “Good game. Ya want ta play again, or do somethin’ else?”

Skywarp looked down at the board, beginning to pick up the counters and tokens and putting them back in the box. Ironhide resisted the urge to sigh. Skywarp had used up all his words for the day, if the sudden silence was anything to go by. He suspected that the young mech had taken his suggestion of being read to poorly. The boxes were stowed back under the berth and Skywarp stood in the centre of the room, looking lost.

Ironhide stood and went to look at the collection of data pads, wanting to give the seeker a little space. Skywarp had snagged an artist's data pad from one of the other shelves and was watching to see where Ironhide was planning to sit.

“What's ya favourite pad?” Ironhide asked, turning back to face him. Skywarp gave him a suspicious look as Ironhide gestured to the array of pads on the shelves. The young mech didn't move or say anything for a click but then he tentatively crossed to the shelves and indicated a pad.

“That one.”

“Silverwing and Contrail?” Ironhide reached up and lifted the pad down. “Ah’ve not read that. Want me ta read it ta ya?”

“‘F’y want.” Skywarp was trying to sound indifferent, but didn’t quite manage. Ironhide could hear the faint hope in his voice.

“Ok. Ya want ta come sit wi’ me on th’ berth?” Ironhide settled himself by the wall, legs stretched out and data pad in his lap. Skywarp seated himself at the other end of the berth, his own pad resting on his knees, stylus poised. Ironhide was disappointed that the seeker would not come closer, but onlined the pad and started reading.

“Silverwing was a fine mech…”

***********************************************************************  
Ratchet carried Sunstorm to his quarters. Jazz had already secured them to hold his guest. No one really believed Sunstorm would prove to be as dangerous as the other young seekers, but no one was about to take any chances either. He would be subject to the same restrictions as the other five.

Sunstorm was settled carefully on Ratchet’s spare berth, now turned into a nest of blankets and pillows. Ratchet had also insisted that all the golden mech’s possessions, those they had confiscated from his subspace at least, were returned to him, and had carefully placed them around the room. Ratchet wanted to try and make the room as homelike as possible. The three data pads had been put on a shelf above the berth, a pict viewer was sitting on the desk, and Sunstorm’s small collection of broken jewellery was carefully placed in a box nearby.

The medic had removed the stasis chip from the young seeker before they left the medbay, and guessed he would have almost a jour before he came online again. He suspected that Sunstorm would prefer to be left alone while he came out of recharge, so he retreated to the main room to update the seeker’s medical file.

Eighty clicks later, he heard Sunstorm moving around the room. The youngling was not attempting to be stealthy. Ratchet could hear him opening drawers and moving the berth. He wasn’t sure what the mech was looking for, because that was what it sounded like. It was probable that the seeker was just exploring his new space.

Finally, the door opened and Sunstorm peered out into the main room, golden optics darting around. Ratchet looked up and smiled at him and the seeker came closer, warily. 

“Do you want some energon?” Ratchet asked calmly as the young mech hovered just out of reach. “We can have a cube and then I’ll show you around.”

“Yes, please.” Sunstorm came closer to the table, still remaining out of reach. From what Ratchet could see, he appeared to be moving quite normally. It reassured him that the mech was not showing any ill effects from his long period in a stasis pod and his stint in the medbay with limited movement.

“You sit down.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. “I’ll get a cube. The dispenser is locked down at the moment so only I can use it.” He didn’t wait to see whether the seeker was going to sit and turned to the dispenser. He pulled two cubes and turned back to the table, pushing one across the table. Sunstorm sat, optics huge, as Ratchet grabbed a packet of additives and placed a scoop in his own cube. The medic pushed a second packet towards the seeker.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve put you on these supplements for now. You’re lucky because you’re not low on anything too important, but I want you to stay in good shape.” Sunstorm eyed the packet dubiously. “I promise they don’t taste bad.”

“Okay. Do I have to take them in every cube?”

“At least two cubes a cycle. If you find you are having trouble recharging I’ll make up a new mix to take last thing.” Sunstorm opened the packet and added a measure to the energon. Ratchet watched him take a tentative sip, then a slightly longer one when he realised the taste was not as unpleasant as he had expected. “Good kid. Taste ok?”

“It’s alright.” Sunstorm took another mouthful.

“Good, we’ll refuel three times a cycle.” He waited until the cube was empty before standing. “I’ll give you the tour, such as it is.” He crossed to the first door, gesturing for Sunstorm to follow him. “This is the ‘racks. We only get ten clicks of solvent each per cycle. I’ve got a variety of cleansers, but if you want anything more exotic you’ll have to let me know.” He stepped into the wash racks, pointing to the features as he spoke. “There are driers here, and this cabinet has all the polishing stuff.”

Sunstorm was looking at the cupboard so Ratchet opened it, revealing polish, cloths and some wax. The seeker’s field sharpened with interest, which Ratchet filed away for consideration. Some time spent indulging in a little mutual grooming would probably help Sunstorm settle.

Leading the way back to the main room, Ratchet gestured to the table, shelves, and small lab next to the energon dispenser. 

“Feel free to take data pads from here if you want to read. They’re mostly medical texts, but I’ve got some other bits as well. The console is there. It’s got a lot of media stored on it; some from Earth, some from Cybertron. There are also some games. Wheeljack makes controllers to allow you to play them. I can ask him to make one for you if you like.”

“What sort of games?” Sunstorm sounded intrigued. 

“I...am not sure. They are all Earth made games, that I do know, but I’ve never had much time for them.”

“Ok.” Sunstorm’s wings drooped slightly.

“I’m going to have more time to spend with you, so we can look at the games if you like.” Ratchet was pleased to see the young seeker perk up slightly. “Another thing in here is the lab by the energon dispenser. For the time being, until I think you can handle it, I’m going to insist you don’t try using it without my supervision, but tomorrow I’ll show you how to make some treats.” 

“Like rust sticks?” That was an interesting reaction. Ratchet hadn’t seen a look like that since he taught Sideswipe how to distill high grade.

“Rust sticks, gelled energon, energon crystals, all sorts of things.” Sunstorm’s wings were perked right up, and his field buzzed with excitement. Ratchet had to smile at his enthusiasm. “That sound like something you want to try doing?”

“Yeah!”

“Good.” He glanced around the room, looking for more things to tell or warn Sunstorm about. “The lock on the main door is coded to set the generators off if you try hacking it, so don’t. I’m not going to be happy if I have to reset them, or the lock.” He looked around again. “You can use the table for any hobbies.”

Sunstorm glanced around, before looking back up at Ratchet uncertainly, but he didn’t make any further comment.

“What sort of things do you like doing in your down time?” Ratchet figured it was a good idea to get to know his new charge and find out how to keep him occupied.

“I was allowed to read.” Sunstorm admitted. “We were only allowed to use the consoles for writing reports, though. Um...I like making jewellery.” He ducked his helm shyly, not looking at Ratchet.

“That sounds interesting. What sort of jewellery?”

“Um...Seeker jewellery…” His field reflected his embarrassment. “For wings.”

“If you tell me what you need I’ll see if I can get it for you.” Sunstorm looked up at him in astonishment. “What? I don’t want you to be sitting around with nothing to do. I suppose you picked up old jewellery and remade it when you could find it?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ratchet smiled opening his arms, indicating Sunstorm should come for a hug. The seeker hesitantly stepped forward, and allowed himself to be folded in the medic’s embrace. “I want you to be happy here, you know. Now, shall we sit and watch something on the console?”

*******************************************************************  
Thundercracker was silent, and unusually biddable, on the walk back to their quarters. He didn't attempted to break Prowl's grip on his arm once, or dig his thrusters in and refuse to move. When Ratchet had finished with Sunstorm, he had begun to give Thundercracker a piece of his mind about the blue seeker's behaviour. Prowl had carefully intervened, redirecting Ratchet's wrath and stoically taking the medic’s harangue.

Thundercracker had only been allowed a few clicks to see Starscream in the end. Ratchet was unhappy with him and had limited his time as punishment. Thundercracker's wings were held low and his field suggested that he was feeling guilty about the whole situation.

When they reached the quarters, Prowl shepherded the seeker into the main room and got him settled on the couch, before grabbing a couple of cubes from the dispenser. Thundercracker just sat, wings slumped and helm hanging. He just looked at the energon when it was put down in front of him, but made no move to drink.

Prowl sat at the other end of the couch, watching the blue seeker carefully. The trip to the medbay had clearly upset him, and Prowl was worried that they would be in for a bad time when Thundercracker went to recharge.

“Please drink your energon. I don't think either of us wants another run in with Ratchet for a while.”

Thundercracker winced, and finally reached for the cube. Prowl held out a supplement packet which the seeker ignored.

“I think you need some iron rather than your normal supplements. It will make you feel better.” He handed Thundercracker the packet, keeping his relief to himself when the seeker added a scoop to his cube. He hoped it would help relax Thundercracker enough to get him talking.

Prowl shifted a little closer as Thundercracker began to drink. It was a calculated move, Prowl's tactical suite had determined that by initiating physical contact his chances of getting Thundercracker to talk to him increased by forty five percent. The overall odds were still poor, but Prowl was keen to head off any future problems.

Reaching out he put a tentative servo on Thundercracker's forearm. The seeker twitched, but didn't immediately move away. Emboldened Prowl ran his servo over the blue plating, pushing care and understanding into his field.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” The denial was delivered flatly, no hint of Thundercracker's previous strong reaction to talking to Autobots. Prowl just kept rubbing the arm under his servo, engine beginning to rumble softly, wanting the young seeker to relax.

Thundercracker's vents hitched gently, the sound too soft to be called a sob. Prowl moved closer, feeling the young mech’s misery, and put his arms around him. He tucked the seekers face into the crook of his neck and rocked him. He was slightly concerned at the uncharacteristic behaviour from the mech.

“What's wrong?” Thundercracker shook his helm, vents hitching again and field unhappy. “Talk to me. I can't help if you don't tell me what is wrong.” There was another soft sob from the seeker. Prowl could feel a mixture of guilt, longing, sadness and an uncomfortable dose of self-loathing rolling through Thundercracker's field.

“He’s been grounded.” The words were accompanied by a louder sob. “N’its my fault.” Prowl’s spark sank. Thundercracker was clearly directing his anger inwards, blaming himself for the decision forced on Ratchet by others.

“It’s not your fault.” Prowl rubbed Thundercracker’s back and one of the seeker’s own servo’s came up to curl strong digits into a gap in Prowl’s plating. The Autobot paused, waiting to see if Thundercracker would follow it up with a painful pull or claws dug into his protoform, but Thundercracker just held on. Prowl decided that the young mech was just in need of some comfort, and resumed his stroking.

“S’not fair!” The complaint was, at least, a familiar one to Prowl. A part of him agreed with Thundercracker. It wasn’t really fair that a very young mech who had had no real part in their war should be deprived of his family and his freedom, but Sunstorm was far too young to be allowed to live on his own, or to be locked up.

“It’s not going to be forever.” The words didn’t seem to make any impression on the seeker, but Prowl tried anyway. “He’ll fly again.”

“Might be too late.” 

The words sent a cold chill into Prowl’s spark, accompanied as they were by a wave of longing so strong it was almost like the seeker was starving. His tanks clenched reflexively and his tactical suite linked up the data into an uncomfortable realisation.“You need to fly, don’t you?”

Thundercracker withdrew sharply, pulling himself out of Prowl’s embrace, anger at the Autobots flaring to life and swamping the loathing he had been directing at his own actions.

“You don’ care!” he snapped, standing and rushing back to his room.

************************************************************  
Starscream sluggishly began to surface from stasis. His processor was fuzzy with static, scrambled data and blaring warnings. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He couldn’t on-line his optics, either, or reboot his audials or vocaliser.

His frame hurt, right down to his struts, but big swathes of his wings were worryingly numb. He couldn’t focus on any single thread of thought, snatches of bad data clogging his processors. Where…? What…? Who…?

Spark spinning frantically and core temperature climbing, his terror rose and he couldn’t even scream.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is another trip to the medbay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo Starscream woke up...Want to guess how well his trine are handling that?
> 
> Thanks for Beta Reading and Sensible Observations go to CheerfullyMorbid.

Skywarp crept closer as Ironhide read the old story about two young seekers searching for their third trine mate. He had spent some time drawing, although Ironhide hadn’t been able to sneak any glances to see what the seeker had produced. He made a mental note to find some drawing equipment for the young mech. It was a great pity that Sunstreaker had developed such antipathy for the seeker. The golden frontliner was a notable artist in his own right.

Eventually Skywarp was snuggled into Ironhide’s side, systems powering down for recharge as the story ended. Ironhide knew that Skywarp could react poorly when he woke up, but for now the young mech was curled in very trustingly. Sighing softly, he put the pad down and pinged the lights to turn off. Skywarp’s optics were a dull garnet glow in the darkness and he settled himself against Ironhide’s side with a little chirr.

Ironhide relaxed as well, offlining his optics. He would deal with the next cycle’s problems next cycle. For now he would let the warm frame next to him recharge peacefully. The seeker clearly trusted him not to cause any harm.  
*******************************************************

Prowl opted not to settle all the way into recharge. Thundercracker’s turbulent emotional state was an indicator of a bad flux to come, if past experience told him anything. Jazz was far more prone to disturbed recharge when he was riding on a wave of self loathing.

He expected some bumps, and maybe some distressed noises, but he was unprepared for the shriek and crash that made the door to Thundercracker’s room reverberate.

Prowl was up and moving before a second crash shook Thundercracker’s door. It was definitely the sound of a mech throwing themselves against the door, and as he got closer he could hear a high pitched keening. There was a third crash, and another shriek which sounded like equal parts rage and pain.

Prowl unlocked the door and barreled through it, catching Thundercracker before he could shoulder charge the door again.

“Thundercracker! Calm down!” The seeker’s vents were ragged and he struggled against Prowl, field panicked. “Thundercracker!” Prowl held on determinedly as Thundercracker’s engines screamed and then stuttered with a nasty choked sound. 

Thundercracker eventually subsided, vents heaving with stress. Prowl cautiously loosed his hold and the young mech sagged to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Prowl began rubbing little circles on Thundercracker’s wings. “Vent slowly, that’s it. What happened?”

“Star…” Thundercracker gasped, curling forward, arms protectively covering his chest and spark chamber. “Star…” His vents heaved and he sank to his knees, shaking, a low keen breaking from his vocaliser.

“Is something wrong with Starscream?” Prowl didn't bother with questions about how the blue seeker knew his trine mate was in trouble. Prowl would call the duty medic to confirm whether something had happened, but that could wait. His tactical software was pinging him with unwelcome conclusions and he ignored it in favour of calming Thundercracker enough to obtain information.

“Hurts.” Thundercracker was cradling one of his wrists, and Prowl could see the blue purple glow of processed energon seeping between his digits. Trying to get the seeker to uncurl, he realised that Thundercracker's shoulder and chest turbine were dented, and the top of his cockpit had a nasty looking hairline crack across it. He had clearly hurled himself at the door with some force.

“What hurts?” Prowl needed to get as much information as possible about the damage.

“S...Star…hurts.” The words dissolved into distressed clicks and chirps.

::Prowl to duty medic.:: There was a long pause before anyone answered.

::First Aid. Is it an emergency, Prowl?::

::Yes. Thundercracker has sustained an injury to his wrist which is leaking energon.::

::Starscream has just woken up unexpectedly. I’ll comm Hoist to meet you in the medbay.::

::Fine, I’ll get him moving.::

Prowl’s tactical computer was working hard, pinging Prowl with the updated certainty that Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker were bonded in some manner. The information that Starscream had apparently woken up, and that Thundercracker had known when it happened was somewhat disturbing. Very young mechs shouldn’t be able to bond, but apparently Thundercracker, and possibly Skywarp, too, had managed it. Prowl wondered if it took a mature spark to provide the impetus. 

“Come on. We’ll get you to the medbay and have someone look at your wrist.” He gently tugged Thundercracker to his peds, ignoring the whimper, supporting him with an arm around his waist. Thundercracker’s field was full of pain and distress, and Prowl winced at the rough touch against his own field.

Thundercracker staggered slightly as Prowl steered him towards the door. His venting was ragged and he seemed to be trying to double over. The seeker had a similar mass to Prowl, but his wings made him unwieldy. Prowl braced himself, and walked them forward.

Hoist was waiting for them in the medbay, and helped Prowl get Thundercracker onto the nearest berth. The young mech’s fans were spinning with an agitated whine and he curled forward with a little whimper.

“What did he do?” Hoist placed a gentle servo on Thundercracker’s helm, trying to calm the mech. “Run into a wall?”

“The door.”

“Why?”

“I think he felt Starscream wake up. I think they are bonded, I don’t know how.”

“Impossible.” Hoist located a suitable pain patch as he spoke and cupped Thundercracker’s cheek with his servo, making the seeker look up at him. Thundercracker recoiled slightly, trying to pull away. “Thundercracker. I’m going to give you a pain patch, alright?” He reached for the port at the base of Thundercracker’s helm and plugged the chip in.

“Hoist is going to fix your wrist.” Prowl began rubbing Thundercracker’s wings as the mech sagged and uncurled slightly. Hoist used both servos to move the injured wrist, pulling it towards himself and supporting it while he ran a surface scan over the struts.

“You’ve sheared the strut through. And it nicked one of the energon lines.” He told the seeker, gently pushing him to encourage him to lie back on the berth. With Prowl’s assistance he got the mech lying flat, and was able to place the injured arm gently on the padded surface. “You’ve done a number on your shoulder as well haven’t you?”

“Hurts…” Thundercracker gave a weak twitch, field fuzzy with residual pain that the chip had not quite dulled.

“I know, I’m going to make it stop in a moment.” Hoist worked his digits under the dented plating of Thundercracker’s shoulder, feeling for the cluster of wires that, when disconnected, would remove all sensation from the injured arm. “There you go.” Thundercracker chirped in relief as the pain receded, helm lolling back.

Hoist set to work, stripping plating from Thundercracker’s forearm to access the broken strut. Thundercracker watched him as Prowl petted his wings gently, alert to any changes in the seeker’s field that might indicate trouble.

“You’re doing well.” Hoist praised as he finished welding the strut. “I’ll replace the plating and put a brace on the wrist to hold it straight for a couple of cycles.”

“Thank you, Hoist.” Prowl kept his servo on Thundercracker's wing as the plating was replaced. The seeker seemed to be relaxing under the influence of the coding, optics dimming. Hoist finished fixing the brace in place and reactivated the sensors to the arm.

Thundercracker gave a little moan of pain as a sudden jag flashed across his neural net. “Hurts.” His engine whined in distress. Hoist hurried to plug his diagnostic cable into the port in the seekers undamaged wrist, starting the sync as quickly as possible. Thundercracker made no attempt to pull away which worried Prowl. It was the first time an unfamiliar medic had synced with his system since before he was captured and the tactician had expected more drama about it. The seeker was obviously in more pain than he had thought.

Hoist frowned when the scan finished and unplugged his cable. “The pain patch is working just fine. There is no reason he should still be feeling any distress.” He stroked Thundercracker's face, bringing the mechs attention back to him. “I need you to tell me what hurts, Thundercracker.”

“Star!” The young seeker splayed his free hand across his cockpit, fingertips scratching at the seams. “Star…” He tried to sit up, but the sedative coding made him groggy and he flopped back on the berth, vents heaving.

Hoist and Prowl traded a look. The medic pinged Ratchet while Prowl tried to soothe Thundercracker.

::What?:: Ratchet answered the comm tersely. Hoist winced internally. Ratchet was obviously worried. The green medic understood. Their best estimates had given Starscream a 30% chance of waking up, and they had assumed, if he woke at all, it would be orns later.

::Prowl has brought Thundercracker in. He tried to smash his way through his berthroom door. I’ve patched him up, but he’s still complaining of pain. I think he has some sort of bond with Starscream and is picking up his pain.::

There was half a click of silence, then Ratchet’s commline erupted in a flurry of some of the worst swearing Hoist had ever heard. It was vicious, creative and conducted in at least eighteen different languages.

“Is he swearing?” Prowl noticed how pale Hoist’s optical band had gone.

“Yep.” Hoist quirked a grin at Prowl. “Well deduced.”

“It didn’t take much runtime.” Thundercracker gave another little whimper and his vents hitched in a sob. Prowl turned his attention back to the seeker, who was shaking and broadcasting his misery far more strongly than he would have allowed had he not been so distressed. Another sudden sharp flare of pain made him gasp and twitch and then it was gone, leaving his sensors buzzing with ghost sensations. Prowl soothed the unhappy youngster, murmuring reassurances.

The medbay door swished open and the big frame of Optimus Prime stepped through it. Thundercracker recoiled slightly, trying to shrink away from the Autobot leader as he stepped up to the berth. Prowl redoubled his efforts to calm the mech and Optimus wisely opted not to come closer.

“Ratchet said Starscream is awake?”

“Yeah.” Hoist looked far from his usual jovial self. “Ratchet was just swearing up a storm.” The medic huffed a good natured half laugh. “I need to get back to my quarters. I’m sure Ramjet heard me leave and I dread to think what he’s done to himself.”

“Thank you, Hoist.” Prowl nodded to him in understanding. “I appreciate your help.”

“You’ll have to bring him back to the medbay in three or four cycles so ‘Aid can remove the brace and check him over.” He patted the closest blue wing . “Try not to throw yourself at closed doors again hey?” Dim garnet optics looked up at him, but Thundercracker didn’t make any remark. Hoist gave him another pat and nodded to the two Autobot officers before hurrying out of the medbay.

“What did he do to himself?” Optimus came closer, unhappily aware that Thundercracker was broadcasting an unpleasant mix of fear and disgust. The matrix in his chest was screaming at him to hold Thundercracker, and comfort him, but he held back. The fear he understood, but the disgust was unsettling.

“Threw himself against the locked door.” Prowl kept a servo on Thundercracker's wing, trying to calm him. “I think he felt Starscream wake up, he keeps rubbing his chest.” He looked down at the blue seeker who was flicking his gaze between him and the Prime, uninjured servo still splayed against his cockpit. “I think he and Starscream are bonded.” The sudden whining of a powerful flight engine caused Optimus to look down at Thundercracker as well. The young mech squirmed, trying to get away from their combined regard.

Ratchet stalked into the medbay, looking furious. Thundercracker's anxiety cranked up a notch as the medic homed in on the little group around the berth.

“What did you do?” The medic frowned down at Thundercracker, who tried to wriggle away again. Ratchet’s expression softened slightly when he took in the wrist brace, and dents and he placed a gentle servo on the seeker’s helm. “What happened?”

“Star?”

“Your trine mate is back in stasis. You didn’t answer my question.”

“He was scared, n’it hurt.”

“Starscream? You felt him wake up?” Optimus gave a sharp in-vent at Ratchet’s question and Thundercrackers optics flew back to the big mech’s face, vocaliser shutting off with a click. Ratchet gave the Prime a dirty look.

::Sorry, Ratchet.::

::He’s not going to talk to me now.::

::Sorry. Did you really just suggest that he is bonded to Starscream?::

::That’s how I’m reading it, Prime.:: Prowl put in calmly. ::I calculate that there is an eighty five percent chance that Thundercracker, Skywarp and Starscream share some form of bond. Furthermore, I consider that there is a seventy five percent chance that Dirge, Thrust and Ramjet are also bonded, and a fifty percent chance that Sunstorm, Acid Storm and Icestorm are bonded.::

Thundercracker’s vents hitched again, drawing the attention of the three adults back to him. Optimus immediately began trying to comfort the young mech, compelled despite his misgivings. Thundercracker’s fear became stronger and the matrix flared a wave of soothing comfort. The seeker recoiled, but the stressed feeling receded.

“I’ll give you another pain patch for Thundercracker to take back to your quarters with you.” Ratchet told Prowl, performing a quick surface scan of the mech on the berth. His systems were running hard, but the damage was repaired. “I’ll pull the dents out of his armour then you can take him back.” 

“How is Starscream?” Optimus put a restraining servo on Ratchet’s arm as the medic turned to find the dent puller.

“In stasis, for his own safety. His optics, audials and vocaliser are all offline, his sensors are going haywire and his spark is flaring erratically.” There was another sob from the seeker on the berth. Ratched turned to him, putting a servo on his helm again. “He’ll be alright. Don’t worry about him.”

::Will he be alright? Really?:: Prowl didn’t allow any hint of concern into his field, but he didn’t want to have to deal with the same situation again.

::I don’t have any reason to think that he won’t be.:: Ratchet found the dent puller and brought it back to the berth.

“”I’m going to sort these dents out, Thundercracker, then you can go.” He put the device against the seeker’s shoulder armour and set the magnetic field to pull the metal straight. There was an audible pop as the metal straightened, and Thundercracker gave a little swallowed click of surprise. Ratchet removed the puller and ran his servo over the area. “That’s it, your cockpit will self repair in a few cycles.”

Thundercracker struggled upright, but nearly tipped backwards as his gyros overcompensated. Optimus steadied him with a servo on his back, and the seeker tipped forward away from the Prime.

“I don’t think he’s in any state to walk back,” Optimus commented. “I’m going to have to carry you.” He scooped the seeker off the berth gently, cradling him against his broad chassis. Prowl gave him a grateful look, but Thundercracker went rigid, field flooding with even more fear. Optimus tamped down his discomfort and carried the young mech to the medbay door.

**************************************************************  
Skywarp booted quickly, struggling in Ironhide’s arms and keening as the pain from both his trinemates echoed across the bond. Ironhide’s grip loosened as the Autobot booted as well, and Skywarp scrabbled to the edge of the berth, venting heavily and trying to sort his own emotions from the ones broadcast by Thundercracker and Starscream.

A gentle servo began rubbing his wings, making him jump. Ironhide was rumbling his engine and he found himself beginning to relax.

“Ya had a bad flux kiddo?”

“Star’n‘TC…” He felt his way along the bond, trying to detangle what he was feeling. “Star’s awake n’hurtin’. TC’s scared, n’hurt himself.” Ironhide wrapped his arms around the seeker again, pulling him close.

“Ya can feel them?” Skywarp gave a little whimper. “Jus’ concentrate on ya own emotions an’ how ya feel.” He rubbed the black wings, hoping that the method which worked with the twins would work for Skywarp. “Try’n sort what ya get from them an’ separate it.” He was rewarded by the young seeker’s field slowly becoming less chaotic. “Tha’ better?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp took a shuddering in-vent, then another, trying not to cry. Ironhide tugged him back to lie down, holding him and talking soothingly and suddenly Skywarp wasn't able to hold it back, burying his face in Ironhide's big shoulder and starting to sob.

“It's ok Sky, it’s ok. They're gonna’ be fine. Ya jus’ relax.” He let the seeker cry himself out, astonished at the level of trust he was being shown, and wondering just what sort of bond Skywarp had with his trine.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are revelations, and chemistry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a warning for mentions of long term sexual abuse, and the trauma that comes with it. There is nothing graphic, but please consider your personal headspace.
> 
> I'm putting these characters through hell, and I feel slightly bad about it...Only slightly though ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you CheerfullyMorbid for the wonderful job beta reading as always!

Sunstorm came out of recharge slowly. The berth he was lying on was very soft and comfortable, and a pile of pillows supported his wings. He was still covered by the thin thermal blanket that Ratchet had tucked around him when he went to recharge. He lay for a bit, enjoying the unaccustomed luxury, listening for the sound of the medic moving around.

There was silence. Sunstorm upped the gain on his audials, but there was no noise apart from the gentle hum of the power systems and the faint buzz of his own internals.

Curious, he swung himself off the berth and padded to the door. It was unlocked and opened at his touch. Ratchet had told him that he would not lock the door unless it was necessary, so it did not come as a surprise. The room beyond was empty, but there was an energon cube sitting on the table and a data pad beside it. The pad blinked with a red message light, and Sunstorm activated it curiously.

Sunstorm,  
I’ve been called to a medical emergency. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I have put a cube on the table. Please drink it all and take the supplements with it.   
Feel free to use the console or read any of the data pads. Medical pads are on the bottom two shelves, fiction on the third and non-fiction on the top shelf. There are some basic chemistry texts if you are interested.  
I’ll return as soon as I can.  
Ratchet

Sunstorm looked at the energon cube. Learned instinct told him to drink half of the cube and reseal it in case he needed it later, but Ratchet had told him to take it all, and he didn’t have anywhere to store it. He was wary of angering the medic, and finding a half drunk cube would be a sure way to infuriate him, especially when he had left such clear instructions. He didn’t like to think what Ratchet would do if he got angry, so he dutifully opened the cube and added the supplements.

Cube in servo, he approached the console, bringing it online and paging through the menu. The choices were split into Cybertronian, Earth, and ‘Other’ cultural media. After a little thought, he decided to look at the Earth options, which were split further into a dizzying array of different media types, genres and programmes.

Eventually he found a film which looked interesting. It was about a human child who was taken away from its home and its creators and made to work for their release. The description said it was heavily influenced by the traditional stories of the region that it was made in. 

One of the many things Shockwave had tinkered with when Sunstorm had been in his lab had been expanding his language protocols. Sunstorm had five hundred languages uploaded into his language processors, but he had only ever accessed five. The film’s description said it came in two different languages. One was Earth’s English, which Shockwave had made him use to test some of his additions. He had never accessed the other language, which had far fewer negative associations, so he opted to try it out. He set the film to play and curled up on the couch, sipping the cube.

Ratchet found him there later when the film was almost over, almost-empty cube in his servo, optics fixed on the brightly animated pictures on the screen. He hadn’t even noticed the medic entering, and Ratchet had not been quiet about it. 

The sensation of Ratchet approaching clearly transmitted itself through the gold mech’s wings when he got closer, because Sunstorm’s helm whipped around and his optics paled. He hurried to hide the cube below the backs of the couch, hoping Ratchet hadn’t seen it.

The clear fear shown by the mech, coming on top of a cycle without recharge, upset Ratchet more than he had expected. He tamped it down, making his way to the dispenser and giving Sunstorm a small smile as he passed.

“Did you recharge well?” Ratchet drew himself a cube and sipped it with a little sigh, wishing it was high grade. He crossed back to the couch, seating himself at one end as Sunstorm shuffled over to give him room. “I'm sorry I had to leave. I might have to come and go a couple of times over the next few cycles.”

“I recharged ok, thank you.” He wanted to ask what had caused Ratchet to leave, but the medic was looking at the mostly empty cube in his servo. He tried to shuffle it out of sight, but Ratchet patted his knee.

“Finish your cube.” Sunstorm raised it to his lips and drained it, relieved to not be punished for failing to obey Ratchet’s instructions. Ratchet patted his knee again with another little smile. “Good kid!”

On the screen, the film was ending, the human child and its creators getting into their conveyance and driving away. The credits began rolling. Sunstorm realised that he had no idea how the plot had resolved because he had been preoccupied with Ratchet, and what he might do. 

“Do you want to take a look at one of the chemistry data pads while I go and use the washracks? Then, if you like, we can try making some treats.” Ratchet got up and took down a data pad from the shelf, offering it to the seeker. Sunstorm took it eagerly, turning it on and then glancing back up at Ratchet shyly.

“Thank you!” 

“You’re welcome.” Ratchet stroked his helm gently for a moment, approval clear in his field. “Did you use the washracks already?” Sunstorm shook his helm, attention already on the mysteries of basic chemistry.”Ok, I’ll go get cleaned up.” He stroked the seekers helm again, and crossed to the wash racks.

Sunstorm was devouring the pad, excitement rising. He had never had the chance to study chemistry, and had never encountered things like rust sticks until Ratchet had pressed the first one into his servos. Icestorm sometimes spoke wistfully of the treats he remembered from his sparklinghood, but his trine mate was notorious for his habit of telling tall tales with a straight face, so Sunstorm had never been sure if the blue seeker was being truthful or not.

The pad started by discussing the chemical properties of various simple elements and compounds, and how they affected the composition and flavour of energon. It was fascinating. Sunstorm had not realised that mechs would add supplements to energon simply for the taste. The text went on to detail how the elements it described would react with each other and how to prevent or force particular results. Sunstorm read on, enthralled.

*****************************************************  
Prowl lay on his berth, staring at the ceiling. It had been a long cycle, and his tactical suite was still working at overdrive. He was as sure as could be that he was dealing with a badly abused young mech. Viewed in that light, a lot of Thundercracker's issues and responses made a horrible amount of sense.

Optimus had carried the seeker back to their quarters. Prowl suspected that the Matrix had been exerting a stronger than normal influence over the Prime, insisting that he care for Thundercracker. Thundercracker himself had gone still from the moment the Prime first lifted him up until he had been deposited on the couch. His field had become progressively more uncomfortable until it was a frantic mix of terror, remembered pain, and a nasty sense of expectation mingled with a resigned disgust. Ratchet had told Prowl that he had felt fields like Thundercracker's when treating torture victims. Optimus had carried him stoically, but had stepped away as soon as possible when he put the seeker down.

Thundercracker had crossed his arms over his cockpit and kept his optics on the floor. He ignored the cube of energon, heavy with iron, that Prowl placed in front of him and seemed to be concentrating on stopping his wings from trembling.

Optimus was distressed by the blue mech’s behaviour. Prowl could see it in his over bright optics. The mask obscured most of the Prime’s features, but Optimus had never learned to hide his emotions. He clearly wanted answers and was trying to decide how to ask the right questions.

“Are you alright, Thundercracker?” Optimus tried placing a gentle servo on the closest blue wing. The fear and disgust flared in a dizzying swirl of emotion and the Prime winced, countering with a strong wave of calm. Thundercracker’s field went flat and sick and the Autobot leader jerked his servo away. “What’s wrong?”

Thundercracker hunched over further, taking a sharp in-vent, optics now fixed on the cube sitting on the table. Prowl crouched down, picking it up and holding it out to the seeker. Thundercracker ignored it again, so Prowl settled next to him, putting a restraining servo on the young mech’s digits, which had begun restlessly pulling at the brace around his injured wrist.

“What’s wrong? I don’t like how upset you are getting.”

“Jus’ get it over with!” Thundercracker gritted out through clenched denta. He refused to meet either mech’s optics, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” Prowl cupped the seeker’s face with his free servo. “What do you want us to do?” He frowned as the blue wings trembled and Thundercracker jerked his head away. With the pain patch still slowing his reactions, he overbalanced, toppling sideways and making no effort to get back up. His field suggested he was steeling himself for something deeply unpleasant and he stared off into the distance, apparently trying to mentally disconnect himself from his frame.

Optimus helped him back upright, tucking him against his chassis as he sat down on the seeker’s other side.

“Jus’ get on with it.” The fight had gone right out of the young mech and he gave a little sob, no longer even trying to control his emotions. The Matrix pulsed another wave of comfort and Thundercracker swallowed a second sob. “S’why you brought me here, isn’t it? Jus’ like Megatron.”

“What did Megatron do to you?” Optimus’ voice was soft, but Prowl saw dawning horror when he met his leader's optics. Prowl felt sick remembering the way Thundercracker dropped his arms away from his chest and turned blank dead optics on the Prime.

His uncomfortable memories were interrupted by the sound of whimpering filtering through the door. He and Prime had eventually got the sweet energon into Thundercracker, and got him back to his berth. Thundercracker had sobbed himself into recharge, making soft little whimpers which hurt to hear. Optimus had left soon after, almost as distressed as Thundercracker at what the seeker had clearly expected him to do.

The whimpering intensified and Prowl remembered the pain patch that Ratchet had given him for the seeker. It wasn't clear from the sound whether Thundercracker was in pain, or was still distressed, so he swung himself off the berth and moved quickly to the door.

Thundercracker was curled up into a ball when Prowl entered his room, cradling his damaged wrist. If Prowl had to guess, he would have said that the blue mech had put some weight on the injured joint and it hurt. Prowl vividly remembered the agony he had experienced putting too much weight on one of his legs after Ratchet had reattached it following a run-in with the business end of a Decepticon sword.

The Autobot touched Thundercracker's shoulder to get his attention, keeping his field neutral even when the young mech jumped and cringed away.

“Come into the other room, and I’ll get you some energon and the other pain patch.” Gently, he encouraged Thundercracker to sit up, still holding his injured wrist, and slide off the berth. He snagged the blanket and led the seeker to the couch, getting him settled before turning to the dispenser.

Thundercracker was trying to hide his pain, gritting his denta in silence, when Prowl put a cube and supplement packet in front of him.

“Drink your cube, first. Then I'll give you the patch,” he instructed gently. Thundercracker added the supplements without any fuss, but stared at the cube blankly, wings trembling before gulping half of it in one go. His injured servo lay limply in his lap, and he gave a couple of deep vents before sucking back the rest of his energon. His field roiled with pain and misery.

Waiting a click to make sure the young mech was not about to purge his tanks, Prowl crossed behind him, taking the pain patch out of his subspace and stroking Thundercracker's helm, before plugging the chip into his medical port with a soft warning. Thundercracker vented deeply again, giving an almost sub-vocal chirr as the coding downloaded.

Prowl stepped back around the couch, picking up the blanket and arranging it around Thundercracker before seating himself next to the blue seeker.

“Would you like to watch something?” Prowl mentally reviewed suitable programmes, wanting something soothing that would hopefully not trigger any bad memories. When Thundercracker nodded, he commed the console to show an old Cybertronian documentary about mechanical lifeforms on Trieskus Three. 

****************************************************  
Skywarp had eventually fallen back into recharge, sobs quieting to whimpers which finally tailed off. Now Skywarp’s systems were purring calmly, and he was still curled into Ironhide’s side. Ironhide stared up at the ceiling of the room. Someone, and Ironhide was willing to bet credits it was Skywarp, had painted a beautiful facsimile of Cybertronian constellations up there in glow in the dark paint.

Skywarp began shifting, venting ceasing to be as even and limbs beginning to stretch. Ironhide moved over, giving him room to flail, not wanting the seeker to feel trapped and panic.

Skywarp arced and flopped onto his back, optics on-lining slowly and a small smile tugging at his lips at the familiar sight of his ceiling. Ironhide kept quiet, not wanting to spook him when he was this relaxed. He off-lined his own optics, hoping that it would encourage the seeker not to see him as a threat.

Skywarp's helm turned, and Ironhide felt him stiffen. He was clearly on-line enough to be aware of his surroundings, but it wasn’t clear whether he had fully re-booted. The sudden scrabbling as the young mech scrambled away suggested that Skywarp was alarmed to online next to Ironhide again.

Ironhide suppressed a sigh, bringing his own optics online as if he had just rebooted. No point is spooking the seeker further if he could avoid it. He quirked a grin at Skywarp who was standing in the middle of the room looking lost again.

“Ya recharge well?” When Skywarp nodded Ironhide sat up swinging himself off the berth. “D’ya want ta get us both some energon? Ah’ll contact Jazz ‘bout establishin’ a commline ta Cybertron so we can ask how Starscream and Thundercracker are.”

“‘K.” Skywarp’s wings perked up and he crossed to the dispenser, drawing two cubes. Ironhide watched him, comming Jazz and making a mental note to remind the spy that they should drain the Nemesis energon tanks and dismantle the dispensers and the hydropower generator keeping them filled.

::Jazz, any chance of getting a commline warmed up?::

::Sure, ‘Hide. Can I ask why?::

::Skywarp thinks Starscream has woken up and Thundercracker has hurt himself. Woke the poor kid up.::

::Think he’s right?::

::No idea. I think he’ll be happier if he knows for sure.::

::I’ve cracked the encryption on the comms centre so I can connect you in twenty or so clicks.::

::Thanks, Jazz.::

::No worries. It’ll be interesting to see if Screamer really is awake!::

Skywarp came closer, offering one of the cubes he had drawn to Ironhide. The Autobot was pleased to see that the young mech had added a scoop of supplements already. He smiled at Skywarp, accepting the cube and taking a swallow.

“Jazz says he’ll have a commline for us in ‘bout twenty clicks. We can collect some storage boxes an’ start packin’ up in here after tha’.”

“‘K.” Skywarp sipped his own cube, earlier jumpiness apparently forgotten.

**************************************************************  
Jazz met them on the Nemesis bridge, standing by Soundwave’s usual console. Ironhide led Skywarp across to him. The young seeker was hanging back slightly, and Jazz sighed quietly. He didn't want Skywarp to be frightened of him. The seeker was clearly uncomfortable around all the Autobots, but he seemed to reserve genuine fear for Jazz and the Prime.

It was annoying, if only from a practical perspective. Skywarp's mapping software was something Jazz hoped to make use of in the reconstruction of Cybertron. Getting Skywarp to overfly areas to perform a topographical survey before the ground teams went in would be a great advantage.

Getting Skywarp to fly would not be difficult, but getting him to come back would be an issue. Jazz wasn't sure whether he would obey commands given by an Autobot. Skywarp would need to prove he would be obedient and fly where he was told, and at the moment Jazz didn't think he would.

“I got y’commline all warmed up.” Jazz smiled at the two mechs, gesturing at the console. “Blaster is all set't take y’call.”

“Thanks, Jazz.” Ironhide clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. Skywarp stopped short of them, watching Jazz warily. “Come over 'ere, Sky.” Ironhide gently tugged his wrist, pulling him to the console. Skywarp's wings were raised and quivering, clearly unhappy at being made to turn his back on Jazz.

Ironhide chatted to Blaster while the mech tried to get the medbay on the commline. Skywarp stood behind Ironhide’s shoulder, silent and still, with a blank expression. Blaster kept sneaking glances at the young mech, but Skywarp didn't react.

Finally, First Aid answered the comm. The young medic’s optics were dim from lack of recharge, but he brightened perceptibly at the sight of Ironhide.

“Hi, 'Hide. Hi, Skywarp. I suppose you want to know how Starscream is doing?” Ironhide's surprise clearly showed on his face. “Ratchet said you'd probably call after Starscream woke up and Thundercracker hurt his wrist.”

“Are they both ok?” Ironhide looked at Skywarp as he spoke, wanting to gauge the seeker's reaction, but he was still staying carefully blank. Only the slight flicking of his wings betrayed his interest, field pulled in tight.

“Prowl took Thundercracker back to his quarters. He sheared his wrist strut, so Hoist repaired it.” First Aid tilted his helm to one side. “He should be ok. Starscream is the one we were worried about, but Ratchet got him back in stasis.”

“How did Thundercracker hurt his wrist?” Ironhide asked, feeling Skywarp shift slightly. Without turning he reached back to grasp the younger mech’s servo, giving a little squeeze. Skywarp was obviously becoming worried and Ironhide wanted to get more information.

“Threw himself against a door, from what Ratchet said.” First Aid cocked his helm again, taking in the flicker of concern which darted across Skywarp's face. “He’ll be fine in a few cycles. Hoist put a brace on his wrist to keep it from further damage. I'll be taking it off when the weld is properly set.”

“Starscream?” Skywarp's voice was soft and staticky, and he unconsciously gripped Ironhide’s servo, seeking reassurance.

“He’ll be fine. Ratchet thinks he woke up and panicked because he can't see or hear and was in pain from his damaged sensor net. We got him into medical stasis, and Ratchet is going to replace all his sensors before he lets him wake up again.”

“Thanks, 'Aid.” Ironhide could feel how Skywarp was trying to stop himself trembling. “I'm sure you'll look after him.”

“We will.” He glanced sideways briefly. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Mechs are coming in for check-ups.” The screen went dark and Ironhide looked back at Jazz, who had been listening avidly.

“Thanks, Jazz.” The older mech glanced over at Skywarp, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was staring at the floor, frame tense. “D’ya want ta thank Jazz fer gettin’ th’ commline sorted?”

Skywarp looked up, mumbled something, and went back to his intensive course of floor studying. 

Ironhide huffed, slightly irritated by the seeker's continued bad manners, but Jazz just shrugged at him.“Y’welcome!” 

Ironhide gave his shoulder a fond pat before tugging Skywarp's arm to get his attention.

“C’mon Sky, ah said we’d need ta pick up some storage boxes 'fore we go back.”  
********************************************************

Sunstorm was proving quite adept at basic energon chemistry. Ratchet had started the impromptu lesson by allowing the young mech to taste the different additives. He turned his nose up at the bitter flavours of sodium and potassium, but showed interest in the sour magnesium and titanium, and a definite preference for sweet iron, nickel and gold. The earthy additives which Ratchet preferred didn't elicit any sort of strong reaction, but Ratchet hoped that he would be able to bring the seeker round.

After the tasting, Ratchet started with rust sticks, as an easy introduction to creating treats. He instructed Sunstorm on how to measure and mix the iron filings and oxidizing agent with enough energon to create a thick paste, allowing the young mech to take the lead, and to spread the mixture into a pan. With a small blowtorch, he ignited the reaction, flash burning the energon, and showed Sunstorm how to cut the tacky mess into strips ready for cooling in liquid nitrogen to create the crunchy sweets.

Sunstorm drank the instruction in, happily nibbling his first rust stick from the batch with obvious pleasure.

“What happens if we add other things?”

“It will taste different.” Ratchet smiled at the seeker’s curiosity. He had expected the question, although not quite as quickly. “I like adding iodine, it makes them a pretty purple colour.”

“What about copper? I remember Icestorm telling me about copper shavings he used to like.”

“Copper is quite sweet, but it has a funny aftertaste that mechs either love or hate. Personally I don't like it, but Ironhide thinks it is great.” Sunstorm's wings drooped when Ratchet mentioned his dislike of the flavour so the medic hastened to reassure him. “Why don't we make a small batch with copper so you can try them. If you don't like them I’m sure we can get them to your trine mates.”

Sunstorm brightened, and Ratchet pulled the copper packet from a cupboard.

“Do we use the same oxidizing agent? The pad you gave me said copper has a shorter reaction time.”

“Very good question. You need the same reagent to trigger the reaction.” Ratchet paused to see if Sunstorm would make a further comment. He was not disappointed.

“But if we let the mixture react for as long as the iron needs then the copper will all oxidize and you won't taste it?”

“Quite right. So what do you think you will need?”

“Something to slow the reaction down... but if the mixture is supercooled then the iron won't react...so there is something else?”

“I usually add this.” Ratchet handed over another packet. “It binds to the copper and slows the reaction the way supercooling would, but it can't bind the iron in the same way, so it only slows the copper oxidation.” He allowed a bit of pride at Sunstorm's insight to enter both his tone and field.

Sunstorm took the packet, looking at his ingredients critically before beginning to add them methodically. Ratchet didn't comment, allowing him to make his new concoction alone, merely standing by with the blowtorch. To his experienced optics, Sunstorm looked like a natural chemist, measuring the chemicals with a sure touch. When the young mech was more settled, Ratchet hoped he would be interested in learning from Wheeljack.

Sunstorm looked over at him expectantly, and Ratchet aimed the blowtorch at the carefully spread mixture, giving it a quick blast. The oxidizing copper made the flames dance with green and blue and Sunstorm gave a little chirr of appreciation before starting to cut the setting paste into strips and adding the liquid nitrogen.

“Looks good,” Ratchet commented, smiling over at the young mech. Sunstorm was watching the liquid nitrogen evaporate in rapt fascination and Ratchet could feel the interest in his field. When the treats were sufficiently cooled, he glanced over at Ratchet.

“Can I try one now?” Ratchet made a little 'go ahead’ gesture and Sunstorm tentatively took one, touching it with his glossa to check before nibbling it. He immediately made a happy little noise. “I like this!” The rest of the treat disappeared quickly.

“I can see.” Ratchet’s tone was dry and he moved the rest of the pan away from the young seeker. Sunstorm pouted slightly, but made no move to snag a further treat. Ratchet rummaged in a drawer for a couple of packets to keep the rust sticks in. “You can have another one with your energon later.”

“Ok.” Sunstorm gave him a shy little smile. “That was fun.”

“Good. I'll introduce you to Wheeljack sometime, he knows far more about chemistry than me.” Sunstorm looked interested. Ratchet suspected he had never heard of Wheeljack, or his reputation. “Do you want to watch something? Or read more?”

“Can I watch something?” Ratchet gestured him towards the console with a smile and Sunstorm perked his wings up. He began tidying the supplements and equipment away, giving Ratchet a questioning look when he came to the two pans.

“I’ll run those through the decontamination point later. Just leave them there.”

“Ok.” Sunstorm flicked his wings and turned to the console.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which packing happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day. I like to hear what people are enjoying about this story!
> 
> This is another chapter that Skywarp took over. He keeps doing that!

Skywarp carried one of the big storage boxes to the grav tube, juggling it awkwardly to press the level button before stepping in. Ironhide followed him, his own box clutched tightly. He hadn't warned Skywarp to wait at the bottom this time, and was wondering whether the black seeker would do so.

Black wings disappearing around the corner suggested that Skywarp had taken the lack of instruction as a chance to test his boundaries. It was clear he was heading in the direction of the trine's quarters, so Ironhide opted simply to follow him. He hoped that giving Skywarp a little bit of freedom world encourage him to come back when instructed.

Ironhide rounded the corner. Skywarp was moving briskly ahead of him, clearly wanting to get back to his quarters. Ironhide worried that the young mech was going to break down when he got somewhere private. He was upset that his trine mates were injured, that much was obvious, and worried about them.

Skywarp opened the door and swiftly entered, closing it behind him. Ironhide wondered whether he had locked it as well. When he tried the mechanism it wouldn’t open, suggesting that Skywarp had used the door's original lock rather than the code scrambler to close it. He pinged the call button, hoping the seeker would answer. He didn’t really want to have to get Jazz or Mirage to hack the door. Skywarp would probably react badly.

There was a pause, then Skywarp opened the door, looking nervous. He stood aside wordlessly, allowing Ironhide into the room, skipping backwards out of range when his caretaker put the box down. Instead of making a fuss about being locked out, Ironhide simply opened his arms, beckoning him over for a hug. Skywarp tentatively approached, allowing Ironhide to enfold him and tuck his helm into the crook of the Autobot’s neck.

“Ya ok? He rocked the black frame gently, servos stroking the back of Skywarp’s neck and helm. Skywarp’s field was unhappy and tense.

“Yeah.” Skywarp’s voice was muffled and he took a couple of shuddering vents before pulling away. The trust Skywarp showed in coming close enough for a hug astonished Ironhide. Although he wasn’t reciprocating and hugging back, it was still a massive step forward. Ironhide suspected that he was still very unsure of the Autobot’s motives, and didn’t really understand why Ironhide was caring for him.

It made Ironhide a little sad to realise that the young seekers had never had a chance to learn about interpersonal relationships and a healthy social dynamic. He got the impression that Skywarp usually tolerated being petted because he was worried about the repercussions if he didn’t. 

“Ya want ta start packin’ stuff?” Ironhide wanted to give Skywarp a distraction. He did not intend to stay too many cycles at the bottom of the Earth’s ocean. Already he found the Nemesis chill and damp, and wondered how Skywarp, or any of the Decepticons, had put up with such an uncomfortable living situation for so long.

Skywarp looked around the room, wings drooping. Ironhide knew how he felt. He’d felt a similar pang when he was part of the crew to strip the Ark. His room on the crashed ship had felt so bare and empty when he had boxed up his possessions. Skywarp was looking lost again, so Ironhide crossed to the shelves of data pads.

“Ya want ta show me which of these are yours an’ Thundercracker’s an’ which are Starscream’s?” He pulled the storage crates closer and began to collect the data pads, putting them on the berth. “Ah’ll take ‘em off th’ shelf, an ya can sort ‘em inta’ piles.” He waited until Skywarp moved to the berth before turning back to the shelves.

The pads were varied, and not in any sort of order. Theoretical chemistry and physics texts were sat on the shelf next to art pads, (Ironhide strongly suspected they belonged to Starscream and Skywarp, respectively) a lone crime thriller was wedged between what Ironhide suspected were stories for sparklings, and more thrillers jostled romance stories and what appeared to be personal diaries. A copy of the Covenant of Primus was perched at the end of a shelf with a set of texts about organic alien biology below it. Ironhide took them all down, passing them to Skywarp.

Two distinct piles formed, and Skywarp also reserved a couple of pads on the pillow behind him. The seeker worked methodically, checking each pad before placing in in the correct place. Ironhide was unsurprised to see the scientific texts in one stack, although the addition of a couple of romance pads was a surprise. As Ironhide watched, Skywarp added the Covenant of Primus to that pile. The Autobot opted to let Skywarp get on with the task, checking a storage space in one of the walls.

Inside were quite a lot of medical supplies, including optic lenses, solder and what looked like small sheets of thin metal for patching plating. Someone obviously expected that they would need to repair serious injuries on a regular basis. There was also several tins of polish, some nanite gel, and lots of polishing cloths. Ironhide closed the door, intending to leave the supplies until last. A second, smaller storage space was mounted next to the first. Ironhide opened it, aware that Skywarp had paused behind him.

The space contained boxes, more pillows, and what appeared to be thermal blankets. Ironhide removed the boxes, bringing them to the berth and putting them down gently. Something clinked sofly inside one and Ironhide could feel several heavy objects shifting in the other.

“Ya mind if ah take a look?” he asked, glancing up at Skywarp for permission. The seeker was still, wings quivering, but he gave a short nod. Ironhide opened the first box, finding it full of rocks. He took one out, noting the yellow glitter of some sort of sulphur compound. Another seemed to have swirls of copper and cobalt running through it. “Pretty. Is it yours?”

“Star’s.” Skywarp shook his helm to emphasise his denial. Ironhide grunted in interest, cataloging the information that Starscream apparently liked pretty rocks. It was a bewildering idea, that the infamous Decepticon Air Commander had a collection of pretty stones. Some of the rocks appeared to have been polished, and others had veins of gemstones or strange structures within the stone.

He put the rock gently back into the box and placed the lid back on top, moving it off the surface of the berth. Opening the second box, he found a tangle of polished wires, chains, and gemstones on a scrap of thermal blanket. A second tangle sat underneath the first, and under that a third. There were different colour gems and metals worked into each. It looked almost like jewellery to Ironhide’s unpracticed optic. He turned to Skywarp, curious.

“Wha’ are these?” He put some genuine interest into his field, hoping the seeker would provide more information.

“Wing chains.” Skywarp responded, “n’ decorations.” Ironhide lifted the top set out. Platinum wires and chains glittered and tiny red gems flashed with fire under the room's lights. The second set shone with some sort of clear crystals, and the third was set with purple stones so dark they were almost black. Skywarp reached for it reverently. “S’mine.”

“It's pretty. Ya want ta show me how ya wear it?” Skywarp looked surprisingly self conscious so Ironhide added, “Ya don't hafta’.”

“S’okay.” The young seeker shook out the chains, beginning to attach them to his plating. Ironhide realised that the gemstones were backed with magnets, which anchored the web of precious metal to Skywarp's armor. Finally the chains and wires stretched across the black wings, accentuating the clean lines and impressive grace. Purple fire from the gems danced across the black planes of his plating, complementing the trim.

“Very pretty.” Ironhide smiled approvingly, and Skywarp’s wings flickered, making the chains chime with a musical jingling noise. “Who made them? They suit ya.”

“Dunno. Megatron gave ‘em to Star.”

“We’ll pack ‘em up carefully, then. Th’ others belong ta Thundercracker an’ Starscream?” Skywarp nodded, beginning to detach the magnets. “Ah’ll help ya.” Ironhide stepped behind Skywarp, who stiffened reflexively. 

“Ya know ah’m not gonna hurt ya, right?” Ironhide briefly ran a servo over the top edge of the left wing, which twitched again. He carefully began detaching the magnets, handing the decoration to Skywarp. He was keen to know why Megatron had given the trine the jewellery, but decided to shelve the question until Skywarp settled down again.

Skywarp moved back to the box, carefully repacking the jewellery. Ironhide put the box of rocks into one of the crates, and turned to the pile of data pads with all the science texts.

“Are these Starscream’s?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp put the last two pads onto the pile. 

“Okay, ah’ll put ‘em in th’ boxes if ya bring some other bits over here fer packin’.”

Skywarp nodded, crossing to the computer terminal and beginning to open the drawers underneath it. They contained lots of bits that he was loathe to lose, including an industrial tub of glitter and some of Mixmaster’s super strong adhesive (which Skywarp had ‘rescued’ from the chemist’s lab). Ironhide would probably not be happy about the glitter being brought back to his quarters. Skywarp pondered how best to sneak it into the box, pulling other bits from the drawer.

Suddenly he paused. One questing servo had found something familiar towards the back of the drawer. It was the handle of an energon blade, designed to be kept in a small compartment in his forearm. It was deactivated, but Skywarp knew it had plenty of charge. Ratchet hadn’t locked any of the physical storage spaces in his frame, presumably because they were too small to be used to store anything dangerous. 

Stealthily, he opened the compartment in his left wrist, continuing to rummage and remove other items from the drawers so as not to attract Ironhide’s attention. He fitted the blade into the space and closed it up. The blade was a small one, and would not be powerful enough or long enough to get through any but the thinnest armour. It was really a weapon of last resort, a blade to stab into joints and disable limbs, to allow the holder a chance to escape.

He felt safer with the comforting weight of a weapon, however small, in his possession. Ironhide had warned him that he was not allowed anything that could cause damage to anyone, but he didn’t intend to let the Autobots find out that he had it.

Dutifully, he brought an armful of assorted items to the berth, leaving the glue and glitter in the drawer. He suspected that Ironhide would want to check the things going into the boxes before they were brought back to his quarters. Difficult, but not impossible.

************************

Ironhide looked around the seeker’s quarters. Most of the personal possessions packed up, and Ironhide had commed Hound to bring up another storage crate for the medical supplies and blankets. Skywarp had been very cooperative throughout the process, sorting through all the items and packing them into the boxes. Ironhide suspected that the young mech was planning to smuggle some things that he personally might not approve of, and he took advantage of Skywarp using the wash racks to check the room for anything the seeker might be hiding.

There were a couple of drawing pads under the berth padding. Ironhide suspected that if he activated them he would see some of Skywarp’s work. 

The solvent was still running so Ironhide decided to take a look, keeping an audial cocked for any indication that Skywarp was finishing his cleaning session.

The pad was, as expected, full of drawings. All were simple black and white digital line art. Ironhide wondered about the lack of colour, but the pictures were exceptionally detailed. The first one was Thundercracker and Starscream curled up together on the berth. Thundercracker had his helm in Starscream’s lap and Starscream was sitting up, propped up by pillows with a data pad in one servo and the other resting gently on Thundercracker’s helm. Another was was a drawing of a servo, long digits suggesting it belonged to a seeker, but the lack of colour made it impossible to tell whose. There were pictures of weapons and equipment, one of the view of the empty room seen from the berth, and several more of Skywarp’s trinemates and other Decepticons, including one of Soundwave sitting at a console with Ravage draped around his shoulder. The second pad was full of maps, both directional and topographical. 

The sound of the solvent pattered to a halt, and Ironhide replaced the pads, pondering what he had seen. Skywarp’s software clearly allowed him to create pict quality drawings, and incredibly detailed maps, but the subject of some of those drawings were very domestic and, dared he think it, normal. Popular report of Starscream’s trine suggested that the three mechs didn’t really get along. From what Ironhide had observed of the interactions between Skywarp and Thundercracker, they were clearly far closer to each other than he had originally expected. Skywarp’s pictures showed that the whole trine was very close in private.

He sat himself back on the berth, waiting for Skywarp to finish drying himself off and to come back to the berthroom. Skywarp was taking advantage of the unlimited heated solvent while it lasted, and Ironhide did not blame him. Jazz was talking about draining the solvent tanks as well as the energon ones. It wasn’t that solvent was difficult to manufacture, but a lack of trained chemists meant that it was only being created in small amounts.

He hadn’t managed to finish checking under the berth, but he had seen two small tubs when he had found the data pads. Ironhide suspected that they were also something Skywarp wanted to conceal. He decided to check quickly, as the dryers were still blowing, and he ducked down, reaching for the tubs. One was made of clear plastic, and appeared to be full of fine glitter, probably human made. Ironhide shook the tub, checking that the glitter was the only thing inside. He put it back under the berth, quickly checking the second tub. It seemed to be full of some sort of liquid. The chemoreceptors in Ironhide’s nasal ridge picked up something which suggested it was an adhesive. He put it back as well as the dryer clicked off, and hurriedly opened the cupboard containing the medical supplies, beginning to pull them out. He didn’t really want Skywarp to have glitter and glue, especially an unknown type of glue, but he had no reason to confiscate the tubs.

Ironhide suspected that he would end up with glitter all over his quarters within the next ten cycles.

Skywarp paused in the doorway, watching Ironhide with suspicion. He didn’t trust the Autobot poking around in his quarters. He worried he had not managed to hide the important things from prying optics.

“Ya gonna come help, kid?” Ironhide beckoned him over, handing him some tubs of nanite gel. “Hound’s gonna bring up another box fer all th’ medical supplies. If we put em on th’ berth we can sort out what is usable first.”

Skywarp obediently took the gel tubs over to the berth, standing them on the surface and turning to watch Ironhide. His caretaker was pulling more items from the cupboard bringing them over to put them with the tubs.

“If ya sort ‘em out ah’ll bring more over.” He patted Skywarp’s shoulder. “When we’re done we’ll go ta th’ rec room fer energon.” 

“‘K.” Skywarp turned to the berth checking the items over. Ironhide gave his shoulder another quick pat and went back to the cupboard, pulling more items out.

When Hound arrived with the boxes the berth was covered with medical supplies. The tracker put the boxes down in the middle of the room, smiling at the two mechs. Skywarp bristled slightly when Hound glanced around, assessing the space, but Ironhide put a restraining servo on his shoulder. 

“Wow!” Hound gazed up at the ceiling, taking in the constellations and galaxies painted there. “Primus, that’s beautiful! Who painted it?” He looked directly at Skywarp, who stared down at the floor, shifting restlessly. “It’s amazing, you should show Sunny.” Skywarp stiffened, wings flaring and Ironhide ran one servo across the top of the closest one, pushing it down.

“We’re goin’ ta get some energon, ya want ta come?” Ironhide decided to try and ease the tension, aware that Skywarp was starting to get upset.

“Yeah, I need to refuel. Ratch’ gets mad when I forget. He got you on supplements too?”

“‘Course. Ah don’t think anyone escaped that.” Hound barked a short laugh as Ironhide shepherded him to the door. “Ya want ta bring somethin’ ta do while ya refuel, kid?” he asked Skywarp over his shoulder. The seeker flicked a wing in a half shrug, looking around with a blank expression. “How ‘bout a game? Ah’m sure we can find someone ta play wi’.”

“‘K.” Skywarp pulled the game at the top of the closest storage box out. It looked to Ironhide’s experienced optic like some sort of of balancing game.

“Good kid. Come on.” He ushered both mechs out of the room.

*****************************************************  
The rec room was full of Autobots. Jazz and Mirage were seated at one table, helms together, while Trailbreaker and Kup sat at another, Trailbreaker listening to one of Kup’s stories. Hot Rod was seated on his own, nursing a cube. Ironhide knew that Springer and Sunstreaker were on space bridge guarding duty. He, Jazz and Kup had agreed between them that ensuring the two more volatile mechs on the team were kept well away from Skywarp would be better for everyone.

Ironhide got Skywarp settled at a table, and Hound snagged a seat opposite him. Ironhide himself crossed to the dispenser, pausing to pat Hot Rod on the shoulder and suggest that he join them. The racer gave him a confused look, but obediently moved to join the two mechs at the table.

Ironhide grabbed three cubes from the dispenser, adding supplements to two, before taking them back to the table. He slid Skywarp’s cube across the table and sat down in one of the empty seats. Hound was helping Skywarp get the game set up, and Hot Rod was watching in silence.

“Ya not takin’ ya supplements, Roddy?” Ironhide noticed that Hot Rod’s cube looked suspiciously free of additives. 

“I left them in my room.” Hot Rod looked up at him, blue optics wide and guileless. A snort behind him made all four mechs look up. Kup was standing behind Hot Rod’s shoulder, looking down at the young mech with a mix of exasperation and fond amusement.

“Suuuure you left them in y’room.” The old mech’s tone dripped with scepticism and he flicked the tip of Hot Rod’s spoiler. “I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the fact that y’hate the taste.”

“Ya braver than I am!” Ironhide snorted into his own cube at the younger mech’s chagrined expression. “Ah know better than ta cross our esteemed chief medic when it comes ta medical orders.”

“Roddy’ll tell you he likes to live dangerously, but he makes sure to schedule his check-ups when ‘Aid is on duty, at least after the first time!” 

“That’s a good plan!” Trailbreaker had joined the group. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Not brave enough?” Hound gave his friend a cheeky grin. “Ratch’ has wicked aim.” Trailbreaker snorted, giving Hound a little shove in retaliation. Hot Rod had ducked his helm in embarassment, and Skywarp was darting his optics between the joking Autobots a bit nervously.

The easy teasing was slightly disconcerting. Skywarp didn’t understand how the mechs could stand to have their weaknesses exposed to the mockery of their comrades. Any Decepticon daring to call Skywarp a coward, or suggesting he was frightened of Hook, would have been punched so hard it would have laid the mech out. But the Autobots were just laughing. Even more bewildering, the laughter was devoid of any mockery. Any Decepticon who had heard what Kup had said about Hot Rod would have taken their opportunity to deride the mech with the clear sanction of his superior officer. It was a tactic Starscream frequently used to keep his subordinates in line.

Ironhide reached for Skywarp’s servo, placing his own over it and giving the seeker a small smile. 

“Ya got th’ game set up?” Ironhide wanted to direct Skywarp’s focus away from the number of Autobots around the table. He could feel the black mech’s discomfort in his field, and see it in the way Skywarp’s wings were held and the slight hunch of his shoulders. Skywarp nodded, looking at the tabletop.

“Is that Drop Bolt? That’s a great game!” Trailbreaker smiled over at Skywarp, pulling a chair over “Can I join you?” Skywarp ducked his helm a little more, one wing giving a little flick, but he didn’t say anything.

“Sky?” Ironhide leant in and put a servo on Skywarp’s shoulder. “Trailbreaker asked ya a question. Ya want ta answer him?” Skywarp’s optics flicked up briefly, taking in the crowd of Autobots before dropping to complete another course of tabletop study. Ironhide shook his shoulder gently. “Sky?” His tone was gentle, but held a warning.

“‘K.” The black seeker was so quiet Trailbreaker was hardly able to hear him. The scout looked over at Ironhide, cocking his helm quizzically.

::He’s a bit nervous. Too many Autobots at once, I suspect.::

“Who else is playing?” Trailbreaker opted to try and break the tension, looking around at the Autobots surrounding them.

“Me, you, Skywarp. ‘Hide, Roddy? You playing?” Hound cocked his helm at the youngest Autobot who nodded.

“Ah’ll play.” Ironhide confirmed, giving Skywarp’s shoulder another pat before settling back into his seat. He met Kup’s gaze, giving his old friend a nod. Kup was very interested in observing how Skywarp was coaxed into interacting with the Autobots. He hoped he could encourage Thrust to relax a little around him.

“Ok.” Hound began dividing the pieces between the five players. “Skywarp, do you want to set the base? How do we want to decide who goes first?”

Skywarp began setting up the base of the tower, still not looking at any of the Autobots, as Kup drew up his own chair beside the young mech. 

“Ah think there’s a random number generator in the box,” Ironhide said. “Lowest first?” He fished the little device out of the box as he spoke, setting it on the table and pressing the button. “Seven. Roddy?”

Hound handed the piles of pieces out as Hot Rod activated the generator, which turned up a one.

“Looks like you’re going first, Roddy.” Trailbreaker gave the young Autobot a light shove on his arm, and the red and yellow mech tried not to look smug. He put a triangular piece onto the base, giving Trailbreaker a challenging smirk.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which packing happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 34 chapters! I am astonished with myself. Thank you to everyone still reading this beast of a fic. You are all amazing.

Prowl had encouraged Thundercracker to curl up on the couch for most of the cycle under a blanket. He had queued the console up to play more documentaries and the blue mech sat, watching them with dim optics. He only roused for mid cycle energon, which he had drunk in silence. Prowl hoped that he would be a little more relaxed and ready to talk as he brought over the final cube of the cycle.

“How does your wrist feel?” Prowl settled himself next to the seeker, handing him the cube. Thundercracker looked over at him, optics a dull garnet and wings slumped. He took the cube, but just stared at it for a bit, swirling it gently, apparently focussed on the glitter of additives.

Prowl put a gentle servo on Thundercracker’s arm, stroking carefully. Thundercracker’s field was not registering as being in pain, which relieved some of his concerns. He was used to feeling a swirling of anger and unhappiness from the young mech, or the sick, miserable flatness when he was anticipating something unpleasant. Now his field felt different, however, exhausted and staticky.

“Are you still tired?” Prowl didn’t expect an answer, so was surprised to see the tiny nod. Thundercracker brought the cube to his lips, sipping slowly. Clearly his self repair was working hard. Prowl wondered whether seekers had faster repair systems than grounders. Logically it would make sense; seekers clearly handled being grounded poorly, so it seemed sensible that their self repair would ensure that they didn’t remain grounded for long.

Thundercracker offlined his optics briefly, a little sigh leaving his vents. Prowl let his engine rumble gently, servo not leaving the blue plating. The mech was clearly physically and mentally wrung out. Prowl doubted he would be in any state to take further emotional battering. He would need to proceed carefully.

“Did you enjoy the programme?” Prowl opted to open the conversation with a nice, uncontroversial query. Thundercracker made a noncommittal noise and Prowl began rearranging them so the younger mech was resting against him and he could get a servo behind him to rub his wing hinges.

Thundercracker settled against him without fuss, optics still dim. His plating was not really loose enough to allow Prowl to stroke across the protoform, but he was able to run the tips of his digits across the edges of Thundercracker’s seams. The seeker was relaxing by increments.

“How are you feeling?” Prowl was planning to tease information about the trine bond out of Thundercracker, but he knew he would need to get the seeker relaxed and out of the fugue he seemed to have sunk into. 

There was an unhappy sounding mumble from the blue mech. Prowl suspected that he resented the question, but was too tired to snap or storm back to his room again. In response Prowl filled his field was sympathy, carefully keeping any hint of pity back. Jazz had warned him that the young mech would be likely to resent pity. With the way Thundercracker seemed to blame the Autobots, Prowl was inclined to agree with Jazz’s summation.

“Are you still getting pain from Starscream?” Prowl was careful not to betray his interest. He needed to understand the nature of the bond that Thundercracker shared with Starscream. There was a seventy-five percent chance that Starscream was a normally upgraded adult and the idea that he had forced two very young mechs into a bond was... unsettling.

Thundercracker shook his helm, still slumped comfortably against Prowl. He didn't seem inclined to move for the moment, which was good.

“Does Starscream get hurt often?” Prowl’s tone was calm and even. “It's not nice to feel someone else's pain and not be able to help.”

“Sometimes.” The seekers vocaliser was hoarse with static. He clearly needed the interaction more than Prowl had realised if he was actually talking. The Praxian pushed more sympathy into his field, servo still rubbing Thundercracker's wing hinges.

“That's unpleasant, especially if he gets scared. Do you think Skywarp felt it too?” There was another small nod, so Prowl decided to push. “Can you feel Skywarp now?”

There was silence, Prowl could see that the seeker had offlined his optics, and suspected he would not receive an answer, but Thundercracker mumbled something inaudible again. Prowl allowed his lack of understanding to be felt and was rewarded with a slightly louder mumble.

“'s faint.”

“He’s a long way away.” Prowl felt Thundercracker’s sorrow, and hastened to reassure him. “He’ll be back in a couple of cycles. Ironhide will bring him to see you when they get back.”

“Want him back.” 

“I know. Have you three been bonded a long time?” He felt Thundercracker’s confusion.

“We’re trine.” The way the seeker said the word, it was clear that it meant something very culturally significant, but Prowl did not understand how. Reminding himself again how young Thundercracker still was, he attempted a different tack.

“Did Soundwave know you were trine?”

That received a vaguely affirmative grunt from the blue mech. 

“Did Megatron?” 

That got a stronger reaction. A flinch and a sharp in-vent. The exhaustion in Thundercracker’s field became tinged with disgust, and old fear.

“No.” Thundercracker’s denial was soft.

“You think if he had known he would have used it to hurt Starscream and Skywarp?”

There was a long pause before Thundercracker whispered “...Yes.” Prowl held him closer engine still rumbling.

“You don’t have to worry about that any more. I promise.” He felt the young seeker shaking his helm in silent denial and pulled away gently, bringing Thundercracker to face him and placing his servos on the seeker’s shoulders. “I promise,” he repeated, field sincere. “No one will try to use your bond to hurt them, or you.”

********************************************************  
Ironhide lay on his back, staring up at the painted ceiling. It was earlier in the cycle than he would usually online, but he had not recharged deeply. The glowing constellations prevented the room from being totally dark. He set a reminder to himself to obtain some paint and brushes for Skywarp. He thought the seeker would appreciate being able to decorate his own room.

Skywarp had been mostly silent during the game the previous cycle, although he seemed to start enjoying it after a while. Ironhide had his suspicions that the sort of interactions the Autobots considered normal were utterly abnormal to the young Decepticons. Skywarp's language issues probably did not help, but he seemed to exhibit some sort of selective mutism, responding in monosyllables and only when pushed to do so.

Ironhide, Skywarp and Kup had toured the Nemesis personal quarters when the game and energon had been finished. Kup had started packing Thrust, Dirge and Ramjet’s effects into more storage boxes and had requested Skywarp's assistance. The trio had also identified which of the other rooms belonged to which Decepticon, and Jazz and Hot Rod were working their way through the list, removing weapons and dangerous items.

Back in Skywarp's quarters, they had packed the medical equipment and pillows and blankets into the boxes and had their final cube while Ironhide read another pad out loud and Skywarp sat drawing.

The pad had been... interesting. It had made a lot of references to flying. Ironhide had not really understood exactly how intrinsic the idea of flight was to Vosian culture. He didn't know whether Skywarp's choice of pad had been subtly deliberate or sheer coincidence. He was very aware that Skywarp, and all the seekers, needed to fly, and soon. He planned to discuss the problem with the other caretakers as soon as possible.

Beside him Skywarp was curled on his side, twitching and mumbling. Ironhide wasn't too worried. Skywarp seemed to be the sort of mech who was restless in his recharge when he didn’t have someone holding him. When Ironhide took his servo he calmed. Ironhide wondered whether it was just because Skywarp was recharging without his trine.

Hound had commed Ironhide before he had gone into recharge, requesting his assistance with moving items from the medbay to the space bridge in the next cycle. He was hoping to use the opportunity to allow Skywarp to show him how much he could be trusted without supervision. Not that he was planning on telling the seeker that.

Skywarp was beginning to online, Ironhide could feel the telltale flicks of his field as the last stages of his boot process initiated, and the more obvious flailing limbs which seemed to be a feature of Skywarp’s normal reboot. There was also the expected scrabbling and fear when Skywarp realised who was lying on the berth next to him. Ironhide stifled a huff of exasperation. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand, and to some extent sympathise, with Skywarp’s fear, but it was tiring, having the seeker flinch away.

“Ya recharge OK?” Ironhide asked instead, sitting up and swinging himself to the edge of the berth. Skywarp didn’t immediately skip away from the berth as Ironhide stood, but there was still a faint but noticeable tightening of cables in preparation to run, or fly.

“Yeah.” Skywarp was watching him closely but Ironhide ignored him, moving towards the energon dispenser. He drew two cubes, adding the supplements and handing Skywarp’s over. The seeker took it, and perched on the side of the berth to drink it. Ironhide sat next to him, drinking his cube in companionable silence.

“We’re goin’ ta help Hound an’ Trailbreaker ta move stuff from th’ medbay this cycle,” Ironhide warned. “Ah’m goin’ ta need ya ta be on ya best behavior. Ah don’t want ya doin’ anythin’ ta cause trouble.”

Skywarp didn’t say anything, but his expression was one of affronted dignity. Ironhide gave a little laugh, pulling the black mech in for one armed hug. He filled his field with amusement and affection and was pleased to feel Skywarp relax slightly after the initial tenseness.

“Brat! Ya gonna behave?”

“Yes.” Skywarp’s pout was clearly audible.

“Good kid. Finish ya cube an’ we’ll head ta th’ medbay.”

Skywarp drank his cube down and dispersed it with a quick squeeze before standing and looking back at Ironhide.

“Come on, then.” Ironhide input the code into the lock scrambler, opening the door and waving Skywarp out. As he had done since they had arrived on the Nemesis, he didn’t hold the seeker’s arm, and Skywarp followed him quite calmly.

Trailbreaker was already in the medbay when they arrived, sorting and labeling crates. Ironhide could see the ones stacked closest to the door contained basic medbay supplies. Others seemed to contain thermal blankets, tools and various chemicals.

“Hey, ‘Breaker.”

“Hey, ‘Hide.” Trailbreaker smiled up at Ironhide. “Hi, Skywarp.” 

Skywarp didn’t respond immediately, but when Ironhide gave him a stern look he mumbled a greeting. 

“Ya want us ta start movin’ th’ boxes by th’ door?” Ironhide asked, indicating the piles.

“Yeah, please. I’m finishing up these crates, and then Hound and I are going to get the stuff out of Mixmaster’s lab.” 

“Ok. Are we gettin’ the stasis pods an’ other big stuff detached an’ ta th’ space bridge as well?”

“Jazz says we should just take the important bits, the stripping crew will dismantle the rest.” 

“Ok, so th’ stasis pods an’ the main drive from th’ console? Anythin’ else?”

“I don’t think so.” Trailbreaker glanced around the room, optics on the various machines around the walls. “You might want to check some of these things out, just to make sure.”

“Ok.” Ironhide picked up a crate and indicated to Skywarp to take another one. “See ya later, ‘Breaker.”

Skywarp followed Ironhide out of the medbay, hefting his box. When they got into the corridor he indicated that that Skywarp should lead the way to the bridge.

“When we’ve brought up th’ first few boxes, ah’ll go back ta ya quarters and start bringin’ th’ boxes that we packed up as well. Can ah trust ya ta keep bringin’ th’ boxes from th’ medbay?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp looked like he wanted to ask or say something else, so Ironhide gave him an enquiring look. Skywarp seemed to be trying to decide how to phrase the question “Are we goin’ soon?”

“In a coupla’ cycles. We’re goin’ ta make a start on some other quarters an’ get stuff packed. Then everyone ‘cept Jazz is headin’ back home an’ another group’ll be comin’ out.”

“‘K.” Skywarp’s voice was soft, and Ironhide could sympathise. This ship was the only home he had had recently, and the Autobots were going to destroy it.

“Ya Ok?”

“Yeah.”

Ironhide doubted that the young seeker was really alright, but he didn’t want to confront the mech about it where anyone could see. He would try to tease Skywarp’s concerns out in private.

“When we get back ta Cybertron ah'll talk ta Prowl 'bout ya gettin’ ta stay with him an’ Thundercracker for for a cycle. Ya want ta check he’s okay, don't ya?”

“Yeah.”

“Good kid. I'll ask Prowl ta let ya go over th’ cycle after we get back, okay?”

“'K.”

Jazz and Mirage were working on the consoles when they reached the bridge. Jazz waved, giving them both a smile and a quick nod to Ironhide when Skywarp was not looking. The spy had been consulted on Ironhide's plan to get Skywarp working unsupervised, and was planning on keeping an optic on the young mech.

“If y’want t’ put the crates by the wall.” Jazz gestured to the free space. “'Jackie’s going t’ get the space bridge prepped for bringing 'em through later.”

“Ok. We’ll be bringin’ th’ rest'a th’ boxes that Hound’n’ Breaker have in th’ medbay an’ th’ ones from Skywarp's quarters.”

Jazz flicked his digits, indicating his agreement and understanding before turning back to whatever he had been doing before they entered. Hot Rod was lounging by the space bridge console and gave both mechs a grin. The young mech had warmed to Skywarp after the game the previous cycle. Both mechs had been in competition and had proved their skill in a head to head bout, which Skywarp had eventually won. Surprisingly, Skywarp gave the mech a brief flash of smile back. 

“Lets get these boxes dropped an’ head back.”

“‘K.” Skywarp placed the box by the wall and turned back to the bridge door. Ironhide put down his own crate and followed him. Skywarp was clearly keen to get on with the task he had been given. It was quite refreshing for Ironhide to work with a young mech who didn’t immediately start complaining when asked to do a dull, repetitive task like carrying boxes. Bluestreak would complain at great length, and the twins would sulk, but Skywarp seemed intent on getting on with the job. Ironhide suspected that Decepticon high command would have been unlikely to tolerate the sort of juvenile behaviour exhibited by the young Autobots. 

After five trips to the medbay and back, Ironhide decided to leave Skywarp to his own devices, and returned to the seeker’s quarters. Skywarp patiently continued ferrying boxes, working quickly and efficiently. Jazz watched him covertly using the Nemesis cameras, but the black mech was behaving impeccably.

Hound met Skywarp in the medbay once all the boxes had been cleared, giving him a friendly smile. Skywarp didn’t smile back, looking suspiciously at the tracker. He was a little surprised that Hound didn’t seem to let it concern him. Ironhide had clearly warned the green Autobot that he was likely to be uncommunicative and probably nervous. Hound had obviously resolved to be understanding.

“Do you want to help me disconnect the stasis pods and get them down to the bridge?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp wasn’t about to relax around the grounder, but Ironhide had warned him to be on his best behavior. Skywarp was more scared of what Ironhide would do if he really disobeyed than what Hound might try. Skywarp knew at least three ways to escape the medbay on the Nemesis, even if it was full of Constructicons intent on keeping him there. Hound would not stand a chance if Skywarp needed to get out quickly.

Keeping his distance, he moved to the stasis pod that Hound had indicated and began unhooking the cables connecting it to the computer. Hound was prudently keeping his distance, working on the other side of the pod. Skywarp worked in silence and the Autobot did not attempt to make conversation. Skywarp relaxed slightly. He didn’t want to be subject to a barrage of questions that he would have to translate and respond to.

“You disconnected everything your side?” Hound asked eventually, peering around the edge of the stasis pod and giving him another smile. Skywarp nodded and Hound glanced around the medbay, pointing to an anti-grav transporter stored up against a wall. “Ok, I’ll grab that hover trolly and we can try to get this thing loaded and take it to the bridge.”

The transporter was a modified hover stretcher and Hound eyed it dubiously when he had examined it, glancing over at Skywarp for confirmation. “Do you think it’ll hold the pod? It’s heavy.” Hound activated the anti gravs, pushing it closer. Skywarp cocked his helm, running rapid mental calculations.

“It’s gonna hold.” Hound gave him an enquiring look, and Skywarp gave a small shrug. “It’s f’r shuttles.”

“Ok. If we put the brake on the transport and then lift and tip the pod, we should get it settled with no problem.” 

They pushed and lifted the pod onto the transporter’s surface. Skywarp hid a wince as the pressure on his thrusters caused a jag of pain to shoot up his legs. His self repair popped up an alert, warning him that the thin plating where his left thruster joined his leg was buckling under pressure. Gritting his denta, he dismissed the alert. His self repair was not telling him that it wouldn’t be able to cope. He resolved to be more careful.

“Let’s get this up to the bridge and get someone to help unload it.” Hound bent to take the brake off again. “Do you want to push or steer?”

“Steer,” Skywarp decided. Steering the transporter would put less stress on his injured thruster.

“Okay, lets go.”

Hound tried to get Skywarp to talk while they maneuvered the pod through the dimly lit corridors. Skywarp made an effort to respond politely, mindful of Ironhide’s orders. Hound’s field felt surprised and impressed despite Skywarp’s monosyllabic answers. Skywarp wondered if he had encountered any of his fellow Decepticons and was comparing Skywarp’s behaviour to theirs. Their faction was not known for being particularly talkative, on the whole. 

Springer had replaced Hot Rod on duty on the bridge, and he glared at Skywarp as the seeker entered. Kup’s legendarily creative discipline had clearly made him wary of attempting anything which would antagonise the young mech, though. Jazz’s hard look when the green mech made a little noise of disapproval told Skywarp that Kup would definitely find out about any disobedience. 

The helo obediently assisted in the unloading of the stasis pod under the watchful optics of both Jazz and Hound. Skywarp kept his distance, but did nothing to risk aggravating the big mech. He could feel Jazz’s approval, and clamped his plating tight. He was glad when he was finally able to get off the bridge and away from the antagonistic Springer and the downright terrifying Jazz. He missed Ironhide’s reassuring presence. 

Mirage and Ironhide were in the medbay when they returned and Skywarp relaxed slightly. Ironhide was at least a known quantity. Mirage was poking at some of the equipment lining the walls. He had pulled various items out into the center of the room, including, and Skywarp got a little thrill of hope to see it, the big flight simulator that the Constructicons had constructed. After considerable bitching about claustrophobic fliers, Skywarp remembered.

“I think we can probably scrap most of these,” Mirage commented as Skywarp and Hound arrived. “Half of them seem to be thrown together, and I can’t even tell what they are supposed to do.” He gestured expansively as he spoke, encompassing all the things he had moved.

Skywarp made a little noise of distress and Ironhide’s helm whipped around, expression worried.

“Ya okay, Sky?” He quickly crossed to the young seeker, putting a friendly arm around the mech. There was the expected tension in Skywarp’s frame, and a strange mix of despair and tank clenching hunger in his field. He turned Skywarp to face him, cupping the mech’s cheek in his servo, taking in the overbright optics. “What’s wrong? Are ya hurt?”

“Can’t d’stroy ‘t.” The seeker mumbled, wings and shoulders hunching under the combined stares of the three Autobots.

“Can’t destroy what?” Ironhide began rubbing his helm, wanting to keep the mech’s focus on him rather than Hound or Mirage. Skywarp would probably clam up again if he felt under pressure.

“Flight sim…” Skywarp trailed off, big optics gazing pleadingly up at his caretaker. “Please...I...I need…” Ironhide caught him up in a hug, murmuring reassurances, while Hound crossed to the devices that Mirage had selected, checking them over carefully.

“It’s ok, we won’t destroy it. Ya need ta tell me which one it is an’ what it does ok?”

“Th’ big one!” Skywarp's voice was muffled where his face was tucked against Ironhide's shoulder. “Please, I’ll be good.”

Hound was looking over the largest of the devices. Mirage had detached it from the power packs to move it, but Hound could see that it had connection points for a power source, and a computer terminal. He had no idea what it was, or how it would work. It was big enough for a mech Skywarp’s size to sit in, with a clear plexiglass front which obviously opened up. There were big vents and two strong heat lamps at the back, plus various different plugs attached to carefully coiled wires. They were clearly meant to fit with corresponding sockets on a mech’s frame. A ping from Mirage caught Hound’s attention as the spy sent him his own conclusions. 

“How does it work?” The tracker looked over at Skywarp and Ironhide, surprised by the very trusting way the black mech was clinging to his caretaker. He watched as Ironhide gently disentangled himself and led the seeker to the device. Skywarp looked the machine over, clearly searching his memory banks.

“I think this is the cable to connect it to the computer.” Mirage unspooled a thick, insulated cable from the back of the main computer bank which he handed to Hound. The connector certainly seemed to match the one in the back of the machine, and Skywarp was nodding emphatically so Hound plugged it in. Skywarp darted to reattach the power packs, showing more animation than Hound had ever seen from the dark seeker before. Hound glanced up at Ironhide, who was watching Skywarp with an expression of indulgent bewilderment. If Ironhide was not concerned that the Decepticon was about to do something dangerous, Hound would trust his judgment.

When Skywarp darted to the console Ironhide moved to intercept him. He could see Hound, looking curious, and Mirage, looking sceptical. Ironhide put a gentle servo on Skywarp’s wing as he booted the terminal and began running a system check on the flight simulator.

“Ya goin’ ta tell me what this does now?” He gently turned Skywarp to face him as he asked the question. Skywarp made an irritated little noise in the back of his vocaliser and attempted to turn back to the console, but Ironhide cupped his cheek in one servo, and gripped his shoulder with the other. “No.” His voice was stern. “Ah said ya need ta tell me what it does.” There was a pout forming on Skywarp’s lips, so Ironhide tapped his cheek. “Sky!”

“It’s a flight sim’lator.” Ironhide could feel frustration coming from the seeker. “F’flying.”

“How?” Skywarp made the irritated noise again. Ironhide could feel his frustration again, getting stronger. He suspected that Skywarp was going to struggle with a full explanation, but he needed to get an idea of how the flight simulator worked and whether it would be safe for Skywarp to be allowed to use it.

Skywarp’s explanation was stilted. Ironhide had to go back over several points, trying to make sense of the information. Hound and Mirage had left with the second stasis pod during the explanation. Mirage would be advising Jazz of the discovery.

“So th’ computer has lots’a flight simulations an’ when ya get plugged in’ta th’ simulator ya can see an’ feel’ ‘em? An’ it helps when ya can’t fly?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp’s wings drooped, clearly anticipating not being allowed to use the simulator. Ironhide patted his shoulder.

“Ya want ta show me th’ simulations?” Skywarp’s wings perked up again, hope blossoming through his field and on his face. The young seeker turned to the console, bringing up the list of programmes available. Most seemed to be battle simulations, but some appeared to be for general flying. “Ah’m not happy wi’ ya usin’ one of th’ battle programmes. Ah think ya’ll get too stressed an’ not be able ta recharge.” Also, reactivating his currently dormant battle protocols might make Skywarp difficult and hostile. Not something Ironhide wanted to deal with.

“This one?” Skywarp indicated a programme which seemed to be a stunt flying simulation. “Please.” His field was hopeful, with an edge of starving hunger. “Please.”

“Okay. Doya need help gettin’ connected up?” Skywarp nodded enthusiastically, opening the front of the flight simulator and settling himself inside. Ironhide helped him plug the connectors into his ports, stroking his cheek to get the seeker’s attention before he linked the final connector into his optical feed.

“When ya finish, ah want ya ta come straight to th’ rec-room ta get some energon, ya understand?”

“K’.” Skywarp nodded up at him, happy anticipation swirling through his field. Ironhide stroked his cheek again, smiling fondly down at him before gently plugging the optical cable in. Skywarp’s optics went dark and Ironhide closed the simulator up. The console beeped, indicating that the programme was ready for upload and Ironhide set it to run, waiting to check it was working acceptably.

The flight simulator hummed into life, vents thrumming and heat lamps onlining. Ironhide glanced at Skywarp. The seeker’s face was relaxed and happy, and his field was clearly broadcasting his elation. Ironhide gave a little smile of his own, heading out of the medbay to the bridge to arrange transport of the flight simulator back through the space bridge.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp is continuing to take over this story, Sunstorm continues to be cute.
> 
> I'm immensly excited that the amazing CheerfullyMorbid has written an AU for this AU where Skywarp wasn't captured during the final battle. It is called Ruins - It is awesome!

The programme ended, and Skywarp made a disappointed hum. His chronometer told him two jours had passed, but it felt like less. He triggered the opening mechanism, and reached one servo up to disconnect the optical feed. The flight simulator had been an astonishing relief. He hadn’t really realised how much he needed even the facsimile of flying. It wasn’t as good as really getting into the air, but he still felt calmer, and happier. Tension he hadn’t even noticed he was carrying had just dropped from his frame and he felt warm and tingly. Even the prospect of entering a room with a group of Autobots wasn’t as daunting as it had felt before.

There were still worries, flying couldn’t sort all of his issues. His thrusters still hurt, the only home he had had for a long time was about to be destroyed, his trine leader was still in stasis, and he was surrounded by enemies. The low grade fear he felt was still there, but for now the joy of flight (even if it was only pretend flight), masked it.

Ironhide had told him to come to the rec room for energon when he had finished, so he obediently began disconnecting himself from the machine and coiling the wires back neatly. Once detached, he stepped out and closed the simulator back up. Crossing to the console, he carefully shut it down, and then detached the device from its power packs. Finally, he coiled the main data cable up and stowed it carefully using the magnetic ties on the simulator.

Feeling that he had done what he could to make sure that the flight simulator was ready to be taken back to Cybertron, Skywarp turned to leave the medbay.

Once in the corridor Skywarp paused, considering his options. Ironhide HAD told him to come to the rec room, but Skywarp knew that there was energon in his quarters. He didn’t really want to face the Autobots, but on the other servo Ironhide had given him an order, and he wasn’t keen on finding out what the big Autobot would do if he disobeyed.

He decided it would probably be more sensible to go to the rec room. Ironhide wouldn’t get angry if he did that. Decision made, he started down the corridor.

He was about halfway to the rec room when he saw the Autobot coming around the corner in the opposite direction. He almost froze. The yellow paint job was distinctive on Cybertron, but here on the Nemesis it could only belong to one mech. Briefly he considered running, but the nearest point at which he could lose the frontliner led to a dead end. If he ran, Sunstreaker would almost certainly chase him anyway, and he wasn’t sure how far or how fast he would be able to go with his thrusters damaged.

Sunstreaker had spotted him and sped up. Skywarp decided to try brazening it out and ignoring the other mech unless he forced the issue. He grit his denta, keeping his pace even and his wings still. It wouldn’t do to make the Autobot think he was nervous, even though he was.

Suddenly Sunstreaker was right there, in his personal space, growling questions about what he was doing and where he had come from. Black servos grabbed his wings, forcing him to stop, and suddenly Sunstreaker was spinning him around, slamming him face first into the wall. The yellow Autobot’s weight was pinning him and Skywarp’s peds scrabbled, trying to make contact with the ground. He kicked back, shoving at the solid mass behind him, and was rewarded with a curse, and Sunstreaker dropping him.

His vents caught as his thrusters impacted with the ground. With his weight behind the fall, he felt something give, and the pain and sudden rash of warnings told him something was seriously wrong. He dismissed the warnings, shunting them into a non-priority processor queue. He needed to get away.

He twisted and Sunstreaker crashed back in to him, forearm braced across his neck. Skywarp sent a panicked burst of static across his comm. He didn’t have the processor space free to compose a proper message.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, ‘Con?” Sunstreaker growled in his audial. Skywarp’s engines screamed in response and his claws unsheathed. He snarled at the frontliner, flicking the panel in his forearm open. The knife dropped into his servo with a practiced twist of the wrist. He jabbed it forward as the blade activated, stabbing blindly for the gap between Sunstreaker’s chest and collar fairing. It wouldn’t kill the mech, but it would hopefully cause him to let go.

With the reflexes of a habitual hand-to-hand fighter, Sunstreaker’s free servo grabbed Skywarp’s wrist as soon as he felt the prick of the blade, slamming the arm against the wall. Skywarp howled in anger, other servo partially trapped between the wall and the Autobot’s hip. He scrabbled with his claws, but it didn’t do much against battle grade armour.

Loud pedsteps came down the corridor, audible even over the snarling engines of the two combatants. Jazz was suddenly disarming Skywarp, while Ironhide was pulling Sunstreaker away. Jazz had Skywarp on the floor in seconds, both arms locked behind his back. An unpleasant pressure on his shoulders made him disinclined to fight his way free.

“Again, Sunny?” Ironhide’s voice was irritated. “What happened this time?”

“Fragging ‘Con had a knife, ‘Hide!” Sunstreaker snapped. “”Could’a killed me!” Ironhide snuck a glance at Jazz, who shook his helm. Skywarp was growling, unable to buck Jazz off his back. 

“Ya’re late for ya shift.” Ironhide frowned at his subordinate, wanting to get the mech out of the area as soon as possible. “Ah’m goin’ ta come talk ta ya when ya done so stay there.”

Sunstreaker stormed off, growling, and Ironhide sighed. Sunstreaker was clearly keyed up and fighting mad. Ordinarily he would get the mech in the brig, talk to him when he had calmed down, then get him down to the training room to work it off, but Springer needed to be relieved and Hot Rod was in recharge.

He looked down at the seeker on the floor. Jazz was skilfully keeping him pinned, and Ironhide knew from experience that the hold Jazz had him in would not hurt unless Skywarp struggled. He could also see the way the mech was trying to wriggle out, and could hear the whimpers. He knelt by Skywarp’s helm placing a gentle servo on the closest black wing, letting the seeker feel his field, trying to sooth him.

“Ya want ta keep still? If ya relax, Jazz’ll let ya go.” The struggles lessened and Jazz loosened his grip, although Ironhide kept his servo on Skywarp’s wing. The seeker immediately began trying to get his servo’s under him to push himself up. “Stay down a moment. Get ya equilibrium back.” He stroked the wide plane of metal, keeping his field relaxed. When Skywarp stilled, venting evening out, Ironhide removed his servo. “Ok, ya wanna get up now?”

Skywarp scrambled up, getting his back against the wall, optics darting between the two Autobots. He was clearly frightened and unhappy and his wings were trembling. Ironhide glanced at Jazz, who nodded slightly in understanding.

“I’ll go keep’n optic on Sunny.” The spy gave both mechs a grin and headed down the corridor in the direction Sunstreaker had taken. He pressed something into Ironhide’s servo as he passed. Ironhide glanced down at the deactivated energon blade and huffed another sigh through his vents.

He turned his attention to the twitching seeker. Skywarp’s claws were still extended and flexing nervously.

“Ya calmed down yet kiddo?” He made no attempt to come closer, aware that Skywarp’s battle protocols were probably still high in the seeker’s priority queue. Skywarp was watching him with wide crimson optics. “C’mon. Let’s go back ta ya quarters an’ talk ‘bout what happened.” He gestured for the seeker to lead the way, standing back because he didn’t want Skywarp to feel trapped. 

Skywarp’s pace was slow and he was cringing away from Ironhide, obviously anticipating a blow. Ironhide suppressed another sigh, internally cursing Sunstreaker’s inability to control his temper.

His optics were suddenly drawn to where Skywarp had been standing. A strange glow attracted his attention and he realised with a nasty jolt that Skywarp had been standing in a small puddle of processed energon. Glancing around, he found small smears and drips decorating the area where the fight had occurred, and a trail of fresher energon being tracked in sticky prints by Skywarp.

“Frag!” Skywarp spun around, nearly falling and stared nervously at Ironhide. “Sky, ya thrusters are leakin’ energon.” He moved quickly, scooping the seeker up. Skywarp began struggling, claws digging into Ironhide’s seams and fighting to get free. “Don’t make me turn th’ generators on!” Skywarp struggled harder, twisting and kicking, Ironhide felt trickles of warm energon spatter his armour. “Skywarp, ah mean it!”

A particularly violent movement made Ironhide forgo a third warning and activate the stasis field. Skywarp went limp in his hold, keening in fear, claws flexing weakly.

::Jazz, Skywarp’s leaking energon from his thrusters. I’m taking him back to his quarters. Could you come down and take a look?::

::Think it was Sunny’s fault?::

::I don’t know. He needs someone with some proper medical training to see what’s happened.::

::I’ll be down soon. Got a couple of things to do first, if it's not serious.::

Ironhide rearranged Skywarp to carry him down in the grav tube. It was a tight fit, but he held the seeker close. He re-adjusted his hold again when they reached the bottom, murmuring reassurances as Skywarp continued to make unhappy noises.

Once at the seeker’s quarters he pinged the lock scrambler to unlock the door and gently laid Skywarp on the berth. The young mech twitched, his engine still rumbling nervously. Ironhide stroked his helm gently, field full of reassuring calm.

“Can ah deactivate th’ generators? Ya goin’ ta behave?”

Skywarp made a little noise, although Ironhide couldn’t tell if it was agreement or not. He opted to deactivate the generators anyway, keeping a servo on the seeker’s shoulder. Skywarp tried to wriggle away, but a slight increase in the pressure made him freeze. Ironhide winced to feel the fear rolling through Skywarp's field. Jazz would be down shortly, and he didn't think Skywarp would be happy to see the spy. Taking a calm in-vent, Ironhide released his shoulder.

“Sit up,” he said, arranging the pillows to support the broad wings. “Ya stay there, an’ ah’ll get us some energon.” He deliberately turned away, hearing the scrabbling movement as Skywarp pulled himself upright, and probably as far away from Ironhide as possible. He decided he was going to have a very long talk with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe when he got back to Cybertron.

He drew two cubes from the dispenser, and added Skywarp's evening supplements to one. Ratchet had told him that they should be effective if he needed to calm the young seeker down. Ironhide hoped he was correct. Skywarp's field now felt like it had when the mech had first been brought to Ironhide's quarters. The fear of Ironhide was clear, and he suspected that the seeker was expecting serious punishment.

Ironhide was a little concerned about the knife, it was true, but the blade was too small to be really dangerous, as Sunstreaker had proved. He would have to talk to Skywarp about it, but he was certainly not going to lose his temper over the young mech’s very understandable wish to protect himself.

Ironhide turned back to the berth, cubes in his servo. Skywarp had wedged himself into the furthest corner, huddled in a defensive crouch. Drops of energon had smeared across the blanket and a small puddle was forming beneath the seeker’s thrusters.

“Drink ya energon.” Ironhide advised, holding the cube out to him and settling himself on the edge of the berth. Skywarp merely stared fearfully at the proffered cube, optics bright, so Ironhide shook it gently. “Take th’ cube, Sky.” He kept his tone calm and Skywarp reached tentatively for the energon, servos shaking with stress. “Good kid.” He took a pull from his own cube, keeping his field calm and even.

Skywarp's wings were rattling against the wall, but he took a tiny sip of energon. Ironhide smiled at him, hoping to reassure the frightened youngster. Skywarp didn’t take his optics off Ironhide, even when he took another sip. Ironhide made no move to approach. The seeker still had his claws unsheathed, and he had no wish to be on the receiving end of a swipe if he spooked the young mech. Skywarp would probably feel bad if he managed to hurt his caretaker (when he calmed back down, at least). Unless he took a blow to the face, Skywarp would be unlikely to actually cause him any serious damage, but it was not worth risking it.

“Jazz’ll be down soon ta check ya thrusters,” Ironhide warned, wanting to prepare Skywarp. Having Jazz turn up at the door unannounced would probably cause even more panic. Skywarp curled up tighter, engines screaming. Ironhide looked at him sternly. “Calm down.”  
Skywarp’s engines kept howling, so Ironhide turned away, opting not to keep escalating the situation. 

Ironhide pulled a data pad out of his subspace, withdrawing his attention from Skywarp. It was a tactic which frequently worked with Bumblebee and Sideswipe. It was no good having a tantrum if the mech the tantrum was supposed to impress wasn’t even paying attention. Ironhide hoped it would work for a mech having a panic attack as well.

It seemed to work, as the frantic revving dropped in both pitch and speed. He could hear Skywarp’s vents beginning to hitch, but kept his optics on the data pad, despite his instincts telling him to comfort the seeker. A quick flick of his optics to check on Skywarp showed him that the black mech was still huddled in the corner, half drunk cube in his servo, and face buried in his arms which were wrapped around his knees.

The dark wings were still quivering and the tiny puddle of energon was still seeping gently. Ironhide suspected one of the very fine energon lines had been damaged. Not dangerous, but messy. Fear had made Skywarp pull his field, so he couldn’t tell whether the young mech was in much pain.

::I’m outside. How’s he looking?::

::Stressed. I’m not looking forward to this, but it looks like he has at least one severed line which needs patching.:: Ironhide stood, crossing to the door, aware the Skywarp had frozen, optics pale with fear.

“It’s jus’ Jazz. He’s th’ only mech here wi’ more than basic medical trainin’.” He could see Skywarp checking out the escape routes. “Don’t think ‘bout movin’ off th’ berth, Sky. Ah don’t want ta risk ya gettin’ more injured.” He doubted that the warning would have much effect, but he hoped it would give the seeker pause.

Sending a databurst with the unlock code to the scrambler, he allowed the door to open, revealing Jazz standing outside with a first aid kit in servo. The spy gave him an enquiring look, mutely asking whether Skywarp was going to behave, which he answered with a small shrug.

Behind him there was a frantic scrabbling noise. Skywarp must have allowed his fear of Jazz to overcome his common sense, and attempted to get somewhere he could hide. Ironhide strode back to the berth, grabbing the seeker around the waist and planting him gently back on the padded surface.

“What did ah jus’ say?” He kept his voice stern, but not angry, and his field was compassionate. He could understand Skywarp's fear, even if he knew it was unfounded. Skywarp's vents were stuttering so he pulled the young mech into a tight hug, settling the seeker’s helm against his shoulder. “It's ok, ah promise. Nothin’ bad is gonna happen. Jazz is jus’ here ta take a look at ya thrusters.”

“Y’wanna sit on the berth so I can see what y’ve done t’ y’self?” Jazz prudently kept back, but Skywarp tucked his thrusters under himself anyway.

::Guess that's a no, then::

:: I'll try and get him to stretch his legs out.::

Keeping hold of Skywarp, Ironhide shuffled back to lean against the wall, pulling the younger mech into his lap. Skywarp struggled, but Ironhide had him held firmly and the seeker finally stopped wriggling. Their position made it impossible for Skywarp to keep his legs curled up, but he kept restlessly shifting his thrusters. Ironhide spotted Skywarp's energon cube lying on the berth. Instinct had made the mech re-seal it rather than risk wasting any. One arm around the seeker’s waist kept him pinned as Ironhide grabbed the cube with his free servo.

“Finish ya cube, Sky,” he instructed, holding it out for the seeker to take. Skywarp tentatively accepted it, but didn't make any move to drink. Ironhide's engine rumbled and he kept his field calm. “Ah’ve got ya rust sticks in my subspace. If ya behave, ya can have one.” He relaxed back, arms wrapped around Skywarp's torso.

Jazz came closer, perching by Skywarp's right thruster, which the seeker tried to shuffle out of the way. He didn't get far, and Ironhide tapped the cube in his servo.

“Drink ya cube, kiddo. It’ll make ya feel better.” Ironhide broadcast his approval when Skywarp reopened it and took a small sip. In response, the young mech took a slightly bigger mouthful.

Jazz let him sip the cube for a bit, keeping still and quiet, before reaching out to put servo on Skywarp's closest ped. Skywarp started violently away from the touch, but Jazz was ready for the movement and kept his servo in contact with the black plating. Skywarp froze, cube forgotten, but Jazz didn't move. 

“Drink up.” Ironhide encouraged him again, stroking his arm and trying to redirect his attention away from Jazz. He was partially successful. Skywarp took another swallow of the energon, but his optics were locked on the servo resting on his ped.

Jazz began rubbing little circles on the seeker’s ped, working back towards the bottom of the thruster, which was sticky with energon. Clever digits didn't break contact even when Skywarp moved restlessly. Ironhide was murmuring soothing words into his audio again, engine purring.

Finally, Jazz got the thruster cupped in his digits. Energon dripped over his palm, the sluggish dribble telling him about the damage higher up inside the turbine. It wasn't enough to be dangerous, but Jazz suspected that the split lines would need welding. He lifted the ped gently, resting it across his thigh.

“I'm going t’have a look inside y’thruster, y’gonna be ok with that?” He pulled out a tiny light, showing it to Skywarp. His other servo kept the ped still in his lap. Skywarp's engine whined, fast and frantic, and Ironhide's rumbled in soothing counterpoint.

Carefully Jazz lifted the black ped again, angling his own helm to shine the light into the thruster. Skywarp tried to pull his ped away and Jazz tightened his grip, ignoring the fresh burst of fear. The light showed the spinning turbine but the angle of the blades was wrong. The plating inside the thruster was buckled and split in several places, and Jazz could see where the energon was leaking from the largest crack.

“Ok, I c’n see what's wrong there.” He lowered the ped, giving it a little pat. “Y’want't give me y’other ped?” Skywarp didn't move, so Jazz put his servo gently on the other thruster. The flinch was marginally less violent, and Jazz easily lifted the other ped. “I'm just going t’have a look again.” Skywarp tried to pull away, but the movement had less force behind it than before.

Jazz cocked his helm, directing the light towards the turbine blades again. The damage was worse in this ped, with the plating badly warped and split. He lowered the ped, looking at the distressed mech carefully, but not seeing any other damage.

“I'm not gonna lie, mech, y’really did a number on y’peds. D’y’know how it happened?”

Skywarp just stared at him, vents dumping hot air. The seeker was shaking minutely, engine still working overtime, so Jazz glanced at Ironhide for confirmation. His fellow Autobot shrugged, clearly unsure of how Skywarp had sustained his injuries.

“Ok, I don’t think I c’n fix it. Y’need a proper medic, but I c’n do somethin’ 'bout stopping 'em leaking.” He reached into the first aid kit, telegraphing his movements, and pulled out a canister of expanding foam sealant. “This’ll seal the leaks, but y’gonna hafta’ keep y’turbines from spinning.” If the sealant was allowed to come into contact with a rotating turbine blade, Jazz knew it could throw the bearings out, which would be even more painful.

Skywarp's engine kicked back into high gear, and Jazz could hear the faint rattle of misaligned components down in his thrusters.

“Ah can apply th’ sealant if ya prefer.” Ironhide offered, stroking one black arm comfortingly. “Ah think we're gonna hafta’ go back ta Cybertron an’ get someone ta take a look at ya. An’ we can take ya stuff back at th’ same time.” Jazz nodded. He suspected that the only way Skywarp would calm down enough to let the sealant be applied would be if he were not in the room.

“That's a good idea, I’ll go’n organise gettin’ the space bridge prepped t’take’y both back.” He slid from the berth as he spoke and Ironhide released Skywarp, who dove to the furthest corner of the berth, away from both Autobots, getting his back defensively against the wall again. Ironhide got off the berth as well, crossing to the door and ushering Jazz out.

*****************************************************************  
Sunstorm was curled up in a chair, reading, when Ratchet got back to his quarters. He looked up and gave his caretaker a shy smile.

“Have you been alright?” Ratchet smiled down at the young seeker. He felt guilty leaving the mech, but he didn't think Sunstorm would be comfortable waiting in the medbay, even in the office.

“Yeah. I’ve been reading this pad.” He displayed the title as he spoke, and Ratchet saw with faint surprise that it was one of the more advanced chemistry texts from his collection.

“Enjoying it?”

“It’s interesting!” Sunstorm gave him another smile. Ratchet gave him a friendly pat on the wing, pleased that the young mech seemed happy. 

“Do you want to play a game on the console? We can go and see Wheeljack if you do, and get a couple of controllers.I’m sure he’ll be grateful for some rust sticks as well, if you want to make some.”

“Yes, please!” Ratchet gave him another pat, his enthusiasm was contagious.

“You’ll like ‘Jack, he likes chemistry too.” Ratchet carefully omitted Wheeljack’s scientific occupation. Sunstorm’s natural wariness around medics and engineers was understandable, but something that had to be worked around carefully. “He’s keen to meet you too.” Sunstorm was looking up at him with bright, interested optics and Ratchet’s spark gave a little dip. Sunstorm was so very young and trusting. Ratchet didn’t remember either Bumblebee or Bluestreak being that naive, but growing up on an army base had made them wise beyond their age. Sunstorm was refreshingly innocent. 

“I’m going to use the wash racks. Have you been through the ‘racks this cycle?” Sunstorm shook his helm. “Do you want to use them with me now, then?”

“Ok.” Sunstorm powered the pad down and stood. Ratchet was slightly surprised. The other seekers’ extreme aversion to using the wash racks with their caretakers was well known.

“Come on then.” He ushered Sunstorm towards the door, allowing the young mech to enter the wash racks ahead of him. Once inside, he grabbed a couple of brushes and some cleanser, handing one brush and the bottle to Sunstorm.

The golden mech took the brush, testing the bristles, and making a happy noise when he realised how soft they were. Ratchet gave him a little smile, starting the solvent and pulling Sunstorm under the spray.

“I’ll do your back and wings, then you can do mine, alright?”

“Ok.” Sunstorm began applying cleanser to his brush, handing the bottle back to Ratchet and obediently turning to present his wings to the medic. His field held plenty of suppressed nervousness, but he was clearly trying to hold it in check. Ratchet pondered this development, that the mech became very compliant, and very polite, when frightened. He wondered whether it was a result of the time Sunstorm had spent in the medbay, or something his trine mates had trained into him.

“Are you alright?” Ratchet put a servo on Sunstorm's wing. The seeker didn't jump or twitch, but a little flash of nervousness skittered across his plating. Ratchet began gently scrubbing the brush across the golden wings. 

“I'm ok.” Sunstorm assured him, brush circling across the plating of his cockpit and chest. The nervousness was squashed down and he was clearly trying to project calm.

“Good. I need you to tell me if you need me to stop. I don't want to hurt you by accident.” Sunstorm's engine had begun rumbling softly, reassuring Ratchet that the young seeker was not suffering from acute stress. He smiled, moving the brush lower.

Sunstorm's wings were relaxed by the time Ratchet signalled that it was time for them to trade places, and his field had lost the nervous edge. He obediently began gently scrubbing Ratchet's shoulders and upper back as Ratchet applied the brush to his own front.

Ratchet turned the driers on when the solvent ran out. Sunstorm shook his wings, droplets flying across the room and spattering Ratchet, who flicked drops of solvent from his servo back at the seeker. Sunstorm giggled, and Ratchet tweaked one of the golden wings gently, smiling broadly.

“Brat! Do you want to polish up a bit before we go and see ‘Jack?”

“Yes, please!” Sunstorm’s wings twitched in excitement. He hadn’t had a chance to polish for far too long.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which games are played, and injuries are tended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither Thundercracker nor Skywarp are particularly happy in this chapter. Thundercracker in particular is having some issues in reconciling his current situation with what he went through with Megatron. Please be wary of your headspace when reading, there is a strong implication of past abuse.
> 
> Thank you to CheerfullyMorbid for the Beta read as always.

Optimus walked briskly down the corridor towards Prowl’s quarters. The Praxian had mentioned that Thundercracker had spent the previous cycle uncharacteristically quiet and miserable. It worried Optimus that the young seeker was so clearly unhappy. Thundercracker had been very defiant, and to see him so defeated was distressing.

Prowl had suggested that Thundercracker might perk up with some social interaction and mentioned that he seemed to enjoy playing board games. Optimus had agreed to come over for a quiet cube and a game in the hopes that it would help the young mech. He wanted Thundercracker to be, if not happy in his presence, then at least not terrified that he was going to pin the seeker to the nearest surface and do whatever Megatron had done.

Arriving at Prowl’s quarters, he pinged the door chime. He was not sure whether his second in command would have informed Thundercracker of his impending arrival.

Prowl answered the door. To Optimus’ experienced optics the mech was worried, but not especially stressed. Prowl's face was professionally blank, and his field was serene, but the Prime could see it in the set of his door wings.

“Thank you for coming.” Prowl's tone was formal as always, but his doors canted a more friendly greeting.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Optimus was equally formal, optics twinkling at the mech. He pinged Prowl with a quick comm.

::Is Thundercracker alright?::

:: He says he is not in pain, which is good. We’ve been playing Empire, so I figure you can just see the set and ask to play.::

:: You think he won't cooperate otherwise?::

:: I think he will be likely to hide away in his room again. I don’t want him to feel trapped into socialising with you.::

“I’ve brought you some treats.” Optimus announced, pitching his voice so it carried into the room. “Energon jellies and crystals, plus some rust sticks.”

Prowl ushered him in. Thundercracker was sitting on the couch. He had hunched over and was carefully not looking at the Prime. Optimus put a packet of treats on the table and took in the half completed game of Empire.

“Who's winning?” He directed the question at Thundercracker, but the young mech ignored him. He met Prowl's optics and the Praxian shook his helm.

“I'm winning,” Prowl said.

“Typical. He always wins when we play as well.” Optimus directed the comment at Thundercracker, who gave no indication that he had heard.

“Let us finish this round, then why don't you and Thundercracker have a game?” 

“That sounds good to me. Do you want to play Empire with me next?” Optimus directed the question at Thundercracker, but the seeker didn't look at him. Prowl moved to place a servo on Thundercracker's wing.

“Do you want to play more Empire?” Thundercracker gave a half shrug, but Prowl could feel his disquiet. He stroked the blue wing. “Can you answer verbally, please?”

“Okay.” The answer was soft, and it wasn’t clear what Thundecracker was actually responding to, but Prowl gave him a burst of approval anyway.

“Very well. Optimus, do you want to sit here?” Prowl indicated a chair not too far from Thundercracker, but close enough to allow the Prime to see what the mech was doing. Prowl pulled out his own chair and sat, nodding at Thundercracker. “I believe it is your turn.”

Thundercracker darted a glance at Optimus, passive sensors focusing on the mech, before his optics went back to the board in front of him. Optimus leant forward as well and Thundercracker’s helm whipped around to watch him. Optimus gave him a little reassuring smile. Thundercracker didn’t smile back. Prowl tapped the table, bringing Thundercracker’s attention back to the game.

Thundercracker’s servo hovered over the board and Optimus took care not to move and distract the young mech again. He selected a piece, moving it delicately to a new position, and removing three of Prowl’s pieces. A large swath of the board turned gold, and Prowl hummed thoughtfully.

“Good move. I had hoped you wouldn’t notice that one.” Thundercracker flicked a wing again, optics straying back to Optimus. 

“I’m not going to stand a chance am I?” Optimus projected amusement into his field. He didn’t think Thundercracker was quite ready for him to retract his battlemask to show his smile so, he opted to keep it closed. He suspected that the young mech would put the worst possible spin on the Prime baring his face without an innocent reason to do so.

“Well if you played more often...” Prowl flicked a doorwing, indicating his own amusement. “Optimus prefers Tactica.” The comment was directed at Thundercracker, but the blue seeker did not look up. “You might have a dull game.”

“I’m not that bad!” Optimus kept his tone very light, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “You are just far too good at Empire, Ratchet and Ironhide have vorns of experience ahead of me, and Jazz cheats!”

“Of course Jazz cheats, he’s a worse player than you are.”

Optimus chuckled and Thundercracker jumped and stared at him again. Prowl made his own move, servo hovering over the board before he moved his piece. It didn’t make much difference to the number of gold tiles on the board, but Optimus cocked his helm.

“Setting up a trap?” Prowl flicked his wing again, and Thundercracker’s attention flicked between his caretaker and the Prime.

“That IS how the game works, Prime. Suddenly your lack of skill is coming into focus!”

Thundercracker moved back slightly, tensing himself to get out of range, even as the Prime laughed again. Long experience told him that a second in command talking back to his leader like that usually ended in said second taking a trip to the medbay. Frequently, it would also lead to the leader looking for a pretty flier to take his resultant frustrations out of.

“Your turn.” Prowl was watching him again, faceplates as serene as always, but he had canted his door wings in a way which suggested he was worried about something. Thundercracker ruthlessly suppressed the shaking of his servo as he moved a piece at random, attention no longer on the game.

Prowl made a little clicking noise, the way he always did when Thundercracker made a poorly thought out move.

“He does that to me as well.” The Prime was looking at him, and Thundercracker fought the urge to cringe under his regard. “It’s not as bad as Ratchet’s habit of telling me what an idiot I am when I make a silly move.” 

The Praxian quirked a quick smile, although Thundercracker was not paying attention. “You need to keep your processor on the game.” He moved a piece which flooded the board with blue. “Or that will happen!” Thundercracker looked back at the board and his wings twitched slightly. “Good game. I’ll get some energon while you reset the board.” He stood as he spoke and moved around the couch to reach the dispenser, giving Thundercracker’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passed. 

Optimus moved to sit in Prowl’s vacated chair opposite the seeker. Thundercracker’s wings twitched nervously as the Prime smiled and pushed a pile of gold pieces towards him. 

“If you pass the blue ones you have over there, I’ll set up my side and you can set yours.” Thundercracker pushed his pile towards the Autobot and started slotting the gold pieces into his side of the board. 

Prowl returned with three energon cubes, one unopened. He slid Thundercracker’s across the table, and handed the unopened one to Optimus. He settled himself next to the seeker on the couch and sipped his own cube. 

“I take it you have your own supplements?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Optimus pulled the packet from his subspace as he spoke. “I swear Ratchet is punishing me with these. He knows I don’t like bitter flavours.” He added a small scoop to his cube, swirling it around and opening his battlemask to take a sip. “Too much potassium.” He grimaced expressively.

“Jazz isn’t fond of his supplements either. Ratchet wasn’t pleased to find he’d not been taking them.”

“I can imagine.” Optimus smiled ruefully. “I did bring some treats.” He noticed that Thundercracker’s wings had twitched slightly and glanced at Prowl to see whether he had noticed it too. Prowl gave a tiny nod and Optimus’ spirits rose. He hoped that the treats would give him a little opening with the young mech.

Thundercracker finished his cube, and sat staring at the tabletop. Optimus watched him for a moment, drinking his own cube thoughtfully. When he had finished, he dispersed the cube and picked the packet of treats from the table.

“I’ve got some jellied energon strips, if you like. Some are magnesium dusted, if you prefer a sweet and sour mix.” Prowl’s wings perked up, and Thundercracker even lifted his helm to look. Optimus offered the packet across the table. Prowl took a magnesium one and nibbled it appreciatively. Thundercracker glanced between both Autobots, before dropping his gaze back to the tabletop. Prowl took a second strip from the packet, holding it out to the seeker.

“Ratchet makes these. Try one, they are good.” Thundercracker took the treat dubiously. It wasn't covered with powder, which suggested it would be sweet. He took a tentative nibble, unsure what to make of the strange, chewy, texture. He could detect nothing more than sweet-tasting nickel and refined energon, so he took a slightly larger bite. Prowl was broadcasting his own appreciation of the flavour and the Prime had put a strip into his own mouth, expression a mix of pleasure and relief.

“Are you still happy playing gold?” Thundercracker jumped at the question, but nodded, not taking his optics off the mech in front of him. “Alright, I’ll go first then.” He picked up a piece, deliberating for a moment before placing it down in a new space. A few tiles flicked to blue and Optimus looked up at Thundercracker and smiled. He put the packet of jellies on the table between them. “Take more if you like.”

Thundercracker ducked his helm, wings twitching and broadcasting his unease. Prowl gently ran his servo down the blue arm, feeling the rolling fear. Thundercracker shifted away as unobtrusively as possible, picking up a piece and moving it quickly.

Optimus studied the board for a click, servo hovering, before he selected a piece to move.

“Has Ratchet given you any of his rust sticks yet?” He asked, attempting to draw Thundercracker out. The seeker didn’t respond, so he continued. “Ratchet only gives them to mechs who don’t cause him problems. Wheeljack pretty much has to make his own.”

“Ratchet doesn’t make very many. He never had much time during the war. I think now he’s trying to keep the supply low,” Prowl commented.

Optimus chuckled again, ignoring the flick of Thundercracker’s wings. The young mech made another hasty move and Prowl put his servo back on the seeker’s arm. Thundercracker tried to shift away again, but Prowl kept in contact, stroking soothingly.

Optimus made another considered move, trying to think up another topic of conversation. “I’m sure Ratchet would teach you to make treats if you were interested. He’s always complaining that mechs want to eat what he makes, but no-one wants to learn to make them.”

“Is chemistry something you have tried?” Prowl asked, field encouraging. “We need more chemists.” Optimus made a noise of agreement and Thundercracker’s optics darted up to look at him, then away. “Thundercracker?”

“No,” the seeker muttered. He kept his optics resolutely lowered.

“If you want to try chemistry, we can arrange that.” Optimus smiled. “It’s your turn again, by the way.”

Thundercracker focused back on the board, considering his next move. He stretched out a servo and cautiously moved a piece, turning several tiles gold in the process.

“Good move,” Prowl praised, stroking Thundercracker’s arm. Thundercracker kept his optics on the Prime, who was looking down at the board again with a thoughtful expression.

“Very good.” He looked up, catching Thundercracker's stare and giving a mock grimace. “I can see I’m going to have to work for this. How come you play this game and Skywarp doesn't?”

Thundercracker dropped his helm again, and Prowl reached for him once more. This time he took his servo and gave it a little squeeze. Thundercracker shot him a look, and Prowl nodded towards Optimus, clearly expecting the seeker to answer.

“Not interested,” Thundercracker mumbled, flicking his wings dismissively. He watched Optimus’ servo like a hawk, clearly expecting a sudden movement.

“He seems more the type for a skill game,” Optimus commented absently. “Who do you usually play against, then?”

Thundercracker's silence earned him another gentle servo squeeze, but a subtle attempt to disengage his servo from the older mech’s had Prowl hold him more firmly. Thundercracker didn't want to say any more, but both mechs were now looking at him expectantly.

“Starscream,” he muttered, trying to stifle the creeping sense that he was betraying his trine.

“Is he any good?” Optimus asked, tone light, as he finally selected a piece to move. “You clearly know what you are doing.” A few tiles went blue. “Not like me. What other games do you play?”

Thundercracker studied the board, trying to avoid answering. He could see at least four moves which would cause the Prime some difficulty. He deliberated, trying to decide which would be safest. He didn't know whether it would be better to win or to lose to the Prime. He was an unknown quantity. He had never played a board game with Megatron, but the mech would have been giving him some tells by now which Thundercracker could use to work out how to minimise the chance of ending up in the warlord’s berth.

Prowl responded for him, after the silence had stretched out for a couple of clicks. “You mentioned Blackspire, didn't you Thundercracker? And... what was the other one?”

“Ratchet is brilliant at Blackspire. I know he's got a board. What is this other game?”

“Calixus Two,” Thundercracker offered softly, toying with a piece. Decision made, and silently praying it was the right one, he put it down, turning a full quarter of the board gold.

“Clever move,” Prowl praised, offering him another treat. Thundercracker took it, using it to take the opportunity to detach his servo from Prowl's. It was a magnesium coated one, and he took a tiny bite, rolling it across his glossa. The burst of sharpness mellowed to sweetness and he made a pleased hum. Optimus smiled over at him.

“I’ve got some crystallised energon pieces as well, with gold flakes. You’ll probably like them, too.”

Thundercracker ducked his helm again. Not being able to gauge what the Autobot leader was likely to demand from him in return for the treats made him wary of taking them. He suppressed a shiver of revulsion, but he knew Prowl, and probably the Prime too, had caught the ripple of it across his field.

Another move by the Prime turned a few of his gold tiles back to blue, but the mech had left a huge hole in his defences. Thundercracker wondered whether it was a trap to lure him into ending the game quickly, or whether the Prime had a strategy laid out to win. He quashed another shiver. Win or lose, he doubted he would get away unmolested. The Prime would either opt to “congratulate” him (and he had vivid memories of Megatron's methods of congratulation) or demand his own prize for winning.

Fear rose in his tanks, hot and thick and cloying, and he rammed it down as hard as he could. He wanted to bolt, but there were no escape routes, and Prowl had hold of his servo again. Thundercracker swallowed down the sob that wanted to escape. He was stronger than this. He had taken everything Megatron had thrown at him and not broken. He would not be reduced to whimpering like a sparkling just because the mech looming over him wore a different badge.

Prowl could feel the way Thundercracker's field was fluctuating. The young mech was clearly uncomfortable and becoming more so as the game progressed. He glanced over at his leader. Optimus was projecting happy calm in his field, but some subtle tells warned Prowl that he was worried.

::He’s alright, just twitchy.:: The source of the Prime’s worry was not difficult to deduce.

::I don’t want to spook him, but I think he suspects the worst of me. I keep getting flashes of his anxiety:: He made a mock mournful noise when Thundercracker played the perfect move, which he could see would prevent him from winning. Thundercracker cringed away slightly. “You are much too good at this game!”

::He’s been very distressed the past cycle. This is actually an improvement.::

Two moves later and Thundercracker had won quite comfortably, but both Autobots noted that the seeker didn’t seem happy about it.

“Good game,” Optimus congratulated him, offering the crystalised energon pieces. Thundercracker’s field rippled with fear and the resigned disgust that seemed to be a feature of his emotions. Optimus noticed that the seeker had started fiddling with the brace on his wrist. “Is your wrist still hurting?” Thundercracker didn’t answer again and Optimus looked over at Prowl for reassurance.

::Ask him to give you an answer,:: Prowl suggested. ::He’s got a habit of going silent. I’m trying to encourage him to talk more.::

“Thundercracker,” he tried again. “Is your wrist still painful?”

“No.” There was no optic contact and no inflection in the mech’s voice. 

“Good. Have an energon piece.” He proffered the bag again, waiting until the seeker took one before offering it to Prowl. He took one himself, rolling it around his mouth, before biting down with a crunch. Thundercracker just stared at the little pink chunk in his servo. “They are really good,” Optimus promised. “Try it!”

Thundercracker cautiously put the piece into his mouth. As promised, it was very sweet. He felt his despair rise again. The Autobots were sure to want something for this. No one gave things like this away for nothing. He debated running, but the only place available was his room and he would not be able to block the door effectively. And he didn’t want to get caught in his room, where there was a berth, by the Prime, anyway. The grounder would probably take it as an invitation.

“Have you tried the games on the console yet?” Optimus asked, smiling over at him in a way which terrified him. He shook his helm mutely, expecting his vocaliser would glitch and betray him. “There are some good ones, we should try one of them next.”

“Good idea,” Prowl said. “Do you have any controllers? We haven’t gone to Wheeljack to get any yet.”

“‘Bee insisted I get some. He’s a bit over-fond of the shooting games for my taste, though.”

“Have you tried any electronic games before, Thundercracker?” Prowl stroked his uninjured wrist and Thundercracker gave a brief helmshake.

“I prefer the co-operative games.” Optimus was putting the Empire board away, but paused to pull a couple of controllers from his subspace. “Why don’t you get these synced to the console? Then we can think about which one to try.”

Prowl took the devices, passing one to Thundercracker who was sat hunched and still on the couch, showing him how to activate it.

::I think he’s going to bolt. He’s tensing up.:: 

::We’ll see how far we get with this game, then.::

“What sort of games do you like, Thundercracker?” Prowl asked, trying to keep the mech focused on the game rather than the big Autobot on the other side of the table. Optimus moved the chair opposite the couch to prevent it obscuring the screen and deliberately sat himself down on it rather than the couch. Thundercracker was watching him, but he ignored it, taking a controller from Prowl and looking at the screen.

“I played an interesting one with ‘Bee a few cycles ago. You have to cooperate enough to survive. It’s a lot more fun than it sounded.”

“Do you want to try that one?” Prowl asked. Thundercracker was still and tense, holding the controller tightly. “Thundercracker?”

“Okay.” There was a suggestion of gritted denta in the seeker’s response. Prowl and Optimus both ignored it and Optimus selected the game he had suggested.

The premise was simple, prevent the cartoon squishies from dying, but it was surprisingly tricky. An uncharacteristically poor decision by Thundercracker caused both characters to die. The seeker put his controller carefully on the table.

Before Prowl could stop him, Thundercracker darted for the washracks. The Autobot sighed as the door lock engaged.

“That went better than I expected,” Optimus commented quietly, picking up the abandoned controller. “I guess he expects to be punished for something like this.”

“I suspect so. He seems to be worried about your reaction to him winning and losing. I calculate a high probability that both have earned him punishment in the past.”

“Primus! Do you want me to leave? I doubt he'll emerge from the wash racks if I am still here.”

Prowl spent a click weighing up the probabilities “It may be for the best.” He sighed quietly, door wings drooping slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The Prime’s voice was warm, and caring.

“I can't seem to break through to him.”

Optimus put a gentle servo on his shoulder. “You are doing a great job. We knew when we started that it would be difficult. You have done a lot in a very short time.” The Prime smiled down at him before allowing his battlemask to click closed again. “Give it a couple of cycles and I’ll come over again.”

“Thank you.” Prowl canted his door wings respectfully, before straightening them. “I will try to determine how to get my wash racks back.”

“Good luck.” Optimus allowed Prowl to usher him to the door.

**********************************************************************************************

Ironhide stood outside Skywarp's quarters and listened carefully. His first attempt to apply the sealant to the seeker’s thrusters had resulted in a screaming meltdown of a tantrum. Ironhide had simply left the room and the hyped-up mech and gone to talk to Sunstreaker, locking the door behind him.

The yellow Autobot had been vibrating with a sense of grievance, slightly tempered by guilt. Ironhide wasn't sure if Jazz had already had some words with Sunstreaker or if he just felt bad that he had jumped to conclusions. Ironhide had pulled him out of the bridge and into a small side room.

Once there, he proceeded to give Sunstreaker a comprehensive lecture, encompassing the younger mech's behaviour (bad), attitude (worse) and aggression (which he threatened to cure by getting the Prime involved). He finished his devastating criticism by advising Sunstreaker to wipe the sulky expression from his faceplates and asking whether he had anything to say.

Sunstreaker had managed to snap back that he had seen a ‘fragging 'con’ wandering around unsupervised and had taken steps to ensure he was not going to cause problems, at which point said 'con had pulled a knife on him and tried to stab him.

Ironhide bristled slightly at the insubordinate implication that he was failing his duty as Skywarp's caretaker, but gently pointed out that Skywarp had clearly been following his instructions to head for the rec room. He followed this up by noting that the seeker was significantly better at following orders than certain young Autobots of Ironhide's acquaintance and that Sunstreaker hadn't seemed to be struggling overmuch with a mech considerably lighter than him.

Sunstreaker had stormed off when dismissed, in what he probably fondly believed to be a dignified manner, but which Ironhide recognised as a snit.

Returning to Skywarp's quarters, Ironhide stood listening to the noises coming from inside. There were still some muffled sobs, but no further shrieking. He hoped that the young seeker had worn himself out and worked some of his pent-up stress out. It had gone against the grain for Ironhide to leave him alone when he had been so overwrought, but he was reluctant to resort to the stasis generators for a second time. Skywarp was in pain and clearly frightened. The tantrum was just a symptom the the stress the mech was under. 

Unlocking the door, Ironhide reentered the room. Skywarp was curled under the blanket on the berth. The fabric covered him from helm to peds, making an irregularly shaped lump under the covering. Ironhide could see smears of energon everywhere from the slow seepage.

The sobs were stifled and the shape on the berth was shaking, but Skywarp didn’t emerge. Ironhide looked at him sadly, worried about the young seeker’s emotional state. He hoped that showing the mech a bit of care, and proving that he wasn't angry or about to start beating him, it would help calm him.

“Sky? Ya ok?” He was rewarded by a thin whining from Skywarp's engine. Ironhide sat himself beside the twitching lump under the blanket, stretching out a servo to rest on a covered wing. “Ya gonna come out?” He stroked the wing gently. “Ah’m not angry with ya. Ah just want ya ta talk ta me.” He worked one servo under the blanket, making contact with the black plating. “Ah need ta know ya are ok.”

Reluctantly Skywarp lowered the blanket, and Ironhide could see the bright optics and distressed, wary expression. Ironhide slowly stretched out his servo, ignoring the wince Skywarp gave, and softly touched the seeker’s cheek.

“Aw kid, Ah’m really not angry with ya. Ah promise.” He could feel Skywarp’s fear and distress and pain, sharp and immediate and tugged the seeker to sit up, wrapping him in a hug again. “Ah’m not angry.” He held the trembling mech tight, rumbling reassuringly. Skywarp remained tense as Ironhide petted and soothed him.

Eventually Ironhide felt the young mech start to relax, and a small hitch begin in his vents as Skywarp began to sob gently into Ironhide’s shoulder. Ironhide shifted to settle himself more fully on the berth, pulling Skywarp with him and getting him comfortable.

“It’s okay, kid. Jus’ let it out.” Skywarp continued to tremble and whimper as Ironhide muttered reassurance and comfort into his audial.

Skywarp calmed slowly, engine winding down from it’s nervous pace, and his sobs and whimpers getting softer before finally tailing off. 

“Ya feelin’ better?”

“Yeah.” Skywarp’s vocaliser was fuzzy with static, but he seemed to have calmed.

“Good. Can ah have a look at ya thrusters now?” Skywarp shifted nervously, but nodded. “Ah’m not goin’ ta hurt ya, ah’ll jus’ take a look first.”

“K.”

“Good kid.” Ironhide released him with a little pat, moving away to look at the seeker’s thrusters. The energon had smeared on the young mech’s peds and was flaking a little where it had dried. Ironhide lifted the first one, noting where the leaks were, before picking up and checking the second. He lowered it gently, giving it a little pat, and moved to grab the tube of sealant that Jazz had left.

“Ah’m goin’ ta get th’ sealant on those cracks, okay?” Skywarp’s engine whined and his field flickered with worry, but he nodded. “Okay, ah need ya ta keep ya turbine nice’n still for me.” He fitted a slim nozzle to the tube and lifted the first ped. Skywarp’s turbine slowed and stopped. “Good kid.” Ironhide applied the sealant thickly, coating the cracks and watching it expand before putting the slender thruster back on the berth. He raised Skywarp’s other ped, repeating the treatment before settling it back. “Jus’ keep still.”

Skywarp relaxed back onto the berth, still watching Ironhide carefully, but the big mech didn’t do anything else.

“Ah’ll find out from Jazz when th’ space bridge will be up an’ runnin’. We’re goin’ straight ta th’ medbay when we get back.” Skywarp shifted and Ironhide gave him a stern look. “Not negotiable, kiddo. Ya thrusters are damaged pretty badly, an’ ya need ta get a medic ta take a look.” Skywarp looked worried again, and Ironhide patted his servo. “We’ll take ya crates an’ th’ flight sim through th’ gate don’ worry.”

Skywarp brightened slightly and Ironhide smiled down at him. The young mech seemed to be relaxing again.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a long awaited secret is revealed.

Sunstorm was quite relaxed about Ratchet holding his arm as they walked to Wheeljack’s quarters come lab come workshop. He was alert and interested, looking around curiously as they moved through the corridors.

Ratchet pressed the call button on Wheeljack’s quarters. Sunstorm moved slightly behind him, field suddenly nervous and shy. Ratchet didn’t comment, simply adjusting his grip on the young mech.

::Come in, Ratch’. I’m just finishing something in the lab.:: 

Ratchet shook his helm, turning to his companion with a little grin. “‘Jack is just finishing something, so he says we should come in.” He reached for the keypad, typing the code in carefully. “Come on.” The door opened and he steered Sunstorm through it, releasing the seeker to re-lock it.

Sunstorm looked around the room carefully. The layout was similar to Ratchet’s quarters, but it was messier. There were coils of wire draped across the backs of chairs, and even the energon dispenser. Scattered bolts, resistors and LEDs littered the flat surfaces. Undispersed cubes were piled by the dispenser, and a couple of half-full ones sat on the table. One had a solenoid sitting at the bottom.

Ratchet looked round as well, giving a little ‘tch’ of disapproval at the half-drunk cubes. “I’ll have a word with ‘Jack about them.” Sunstorm looked at him in confusion. “I don’t like mechs not taking their full ration when they can. It’s really bad for you.” He picked up the cube with the broken solenoid in it, shaking his helm. “‘Jackie is notorious for not drinking his ration.” The cube was put back on the table and Ratchet prowled over to the dispenser, checking the level of supplements in the medbay-issued packet. He made another irritated noise.

Wheeljack appeared in the doorway of his lab, giving his friend an rueful look. Sunstorm spotted him first, and recognised him. He froze in place, horrified, but not entirely surprised, that Ratchet would bring him to the lair of another scientist. He had last seen this mech up to his elbows in Icestorm’s chassis! He started backing away stealthily. Ratchet had locked the door behind them, but Sunstorm was pretty sure he could hack the lock open with minimal fuss. And this lock wouldn’t have a nasty surprise which would activate his stasis generators.

“Hi Ratch’...” Sunstorm managed to move himself over to the lock pad while Wheeljack greeted his fellow Autobot, listening to their conversation with half an audial. It mostly consisted of Ratchet giving Wheeljack a lecture about his poor refuelling habits. Wheeljack wasn’t saying much except “yes, Ratchet” and “no, Ratchet” and once “awwwww Ratch’!”. 

Ratchet had spotted Sunstorm’s foray into lock hacking. Something had obviously spooked the youngling and he was attempting to escape.

::You still using that cycling code anti-hack lock, ‘Jackie?::

::Yep, he’ll have to do more than that to open the door. Sides’ was trying to get in again so I upped the cycle frequency about ten cycles ago.::

::Something has upset him. He might have recognised you.::

::I was working on Icestorm when he was brought in to the medbay. He probably saw me then.::

::Primus. I’d forgotten about that. I suspect that is what has happened, then. I’ll get him.:: He strode to the seeker and reset his vocaliser. Sunstorm started violently, spinning around and cracking his wingtip against the wall. He gave a little hiss of pain, and Ratchet automatically reached for him, servos immediately checking the banged appendage. 

“And what are you doing?” He was careful to keep his tone light and free of irritation and accusation. Sunstorm cringed away anyway, clearly trying to come up with an excuse.

“Nothing.” As explanations went, it was pretty poor, so Ratchet didn’t bother challenging it. Instead he gently tugged Sunstorm away from the door.

“Come and meet Wheeljack.” Sunstorm dragged his peds a little, but Ratchet was firm, leading him over to the engineer. “‘Jack, this is Sunstorm.”

“Hi, Sunstorm.” Wheeljack extended his field to brush against Sunstorm’s in polite greeting. The golden seeker tentatively returned the gesture, hiding his discomfort. He hadn’t ever had much opportunity to greet someone formally like that, but Acid Storm and Icestorm had explained what to do. Acid Storm in particular was always keen that he had good manners.

“Hi.” He managed a shy smile. The Autobot in front of him had a mask, but the curious helm fins lit up when he spoke, and his optics were surprisingly expressive. He wasn’t keen on getting too close to the mech, but Ratchet was handing him the packet of rust sticks, and nudging him forward. He swallowed his discomfort. Wheeljack would be unlikely to care that he was afraid, so he wouldn’t allow it to show.

“Sunstorm made you some rust sticks.” Ratchet petted the golden wing, smiling at the seeker. Sunstorm offered the packet, and Wheeljack took it, helm fins lighting up blue, and optics brightening slightly.

“Thank you.” He looked down at the packet in his servo and back at Sunstorm. “That was very kind of you.” He reached out and gave Sunstorm’s shoulder a little squeeze. The seeker tried not to shy away.

“We were hoping you had a couple of console controllers going unused,” Ratchet went on. “Sunstorm and I are going to take a look at some of the games on the console.”

“I’ve got one mostly put together, and one which wants some soldering.” Wheeljack turned back to his lab. Ratchet tugged Sunstorm after him, keeping a firm grip when the young mech’s field flickered with fear. He gently steered the seeker through the lab door, standing in the doorway to prevent any further escape attempts. Wheeljack beckoned him over to a bench.

Sunstorm was slightly reassured that there were no restraints or medical tools in immediate sight, although the room looked like it had collided with a tool store. Wheeljack was standing at a workbench covered in parts. There were tubs lining the walls, clearly labeled as being for specific components, but from what Sunstorm could see they were filled with a mix of whatever had been to servo at the time.

“I see you’ve been tidying up.” Ratchet commented from where he lounged against the doorframe. His tone was dry, and Wheeljack’s helm fins flashed purple with embarrassment.

“He always says that!” Wheeljack complained in a hushed tone to Sunstorm. “He doesn’t like mess.” He reached for the seeker’s wrist, tugging him closer. Sunstorm twitched nervously, but allowed the engineer to pull him in. Firmly reminding himself of the bad consequences of trying to run or protest, he stood silently by the bench.

“Have you ever helped fix circuit boards before?” Wheeljack had a circuit board in one servo, and some plastic in the other. Sunstorm shook his helm, and Wheeljack put the board and plastic parts in front of him, handing him a screwdriver. “Okay. What I need you to do is fit the plastic parts together. Don’t worry, it’s obvious what fits where. Then fix the board in place so the connectors…” He exhibited the metal tags on some of the pieces. “Are in contact with these bits here.” He indicated five patches of bare metal on the board. “You OK with that?”

“Yes.” Sunstorm subjected the board and parts to critical scrutiny. He jumped when Wheeljack patted his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“You can try putting that one together, and I’ll finish soldering the circuits for this one.”

As Wheeljack had promised the little device was very simple to put together and he completed it easily enough. He looked up to see his caretaker and the engineer both watching him. Ratchet looked impressed and Sunstorm ducked his helm a little in embarrassment.

“Wow, that was quick!” Wheeljack was looking down at the controller, helm fins glowing a soft yellow. “You want me to show you how to solder?” The seeker glanced up at Ratchet, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

“That's a great idea. It's a good skill to have. It might help with your jewelry making too.”

“You make jewelry, wow.” Wheeljack’s field was interested. “Would you show me some time?”

“'Jack loves making stuff.” Ratchet told him, smiling over at his friend. 

“Yeah.” Wheeljack's helm fins flashed purple again, and he ducked his helm. “If I find anything you can use do you want me to give it to you?”

Sunstorm looked over at Ratchet again. He wondered what the engineer would want in return. Acid Storm had warned him that nothing came for free. He had been wondering what Ratchet would want in return for looking after him as well. The medic nodded to him, indicating that he should answer Wheeljack.

“Yes, please.” He jumped again when Wheeljack's servo landed on his shoulder for the second time.

“Great. Come and help me complete this circuit board.” He launched into an explanation of how to build and solder the wires into place, demonstrating enthusiastically.

********************************************************************************

Skywarp refused to allow First Aid to even look at his thrusters. The young medic had tried coaxing, ordering and finally appealing to Ironhide. The older Autobot had attempted to understand why Skywarp was not cooperating. As the answer (after a lot of patient questioning) boiled down to the seeker not trusting a new medic, First-Aid had given up and left Skywarp with a small cube of energon, a pain patch and instructions to sit on the berth and wait for Ratchet.

When he arrived to run scans on Starscream, Ratchet was less than impressed to be greeted by his fellow medic, very much on his dignity, who advised him that Skywarp was refusing treatment. Deciding to start the spark scans first, he stalked into the secured medbay wing in a simmering temper. He was fond of First Aid, and the young medic was very hurt that Skywarp had made his distrust so clear.

He started the delicate process of opening Starscream’s spark chamber, and attached the probes while attempting to keep his irritation under control.

::Ratch’?:: Ironhide's comm interrupted his thoughts, most of which were about giving Skywarp several good reasons not to refuse to be treated by whichever medic was available. 

::What?:: The comm didn't adequately reflect his ire, but Ironhide knew him well enough to understand the complex emotions behind that one word.

::I figured you'd be cross.::

:: Just a little, 'Hide. When have I ever let mechs in my medbay dictate who they are treated by?::

:: I know. But Sky’s upset and terrified. I really don't want him to be afraid of First Aid so I’m not going to push him. He won't even let me give him a pain patch.::

:: What happened?:: Ratchet understood Ironhide's reluctance. Skywarp neither knew nor trusted First Aid. To force him to accept the medic’s assistance would undermine any chance of getting him comfortable enough to accept his help in the future.

::He got into another fight with Sunny.:: Ratchet made a sound of irritation at that. ::He's hurt his thrusters somehow. I had Jazz take a look. He mentioned the damage is quite far inside and that it needs a medic to fix it.:: There was a small pause, then Ironhide continued. :: Don't get mad about this, Ratch’, but I think this problem has been developing for a while. He’s been walking oddly for a few cycles and there have been a couple of times he seemed to be in pain, but he denied it.::

::Fragging little glitch!::

:: I said don't get mad, Ratch’. I don't think he knew how bad it was.::

:: He should have told one of us!:: Ratchet's anger was tempered with sorrow that Skywarp didn't feel able to share something that had such a huge impact.

::I know, but he doesn't trust us enough to tell us about a weakness like that. He pulled a major tantrum when I tried to seal the cracks in his plating.::

Ratchet groaned. Patients prone to hysterical reactions were one of his least favourite things. ::Tell me he’s calm now, at least.::

::Yeah. He’s nervous, more so than normal when he comes to the medbay, but I think he'll be alright.::

:: Fine. I'll try to keep it calm when I look at him. I'll get 'Aid to help me, we need to get all six of them used to being treated by whoever is available.:: Ratchet sent a ping to First Aid, letting him know that his assistance would be required, before setting the spark scanner to run and heading towards the main medbay. 

Locking the door behind him, he took a calming in-vent, settling his plating and his field to project tranquil unconcern. It was not something he usually bothered with, even with highly strung patients, but he didn't want to spend jours in the medbay because Skywarp was too stressed to allow him to work.

The black mech cringed away from him when he came up to the berth and activated the privacy screen. Ironhide gave him a relieved smile and a friendly brush of his field while First Aid met him with a fair assumption of calm.

“What happened to you?” Ratchet asked the seeker, putting a servo on the closest thruster, and lifting it gently. Skywarp made a thin whine and tried to pull away, but Ratchet kept hold. First Aid came to his shoulder with a small light and directed it inside the thruster. Skywarp keened in distress, but Ratchet ignored him. “That looks nasty, does it hurt?”

Skywarp's vents heaved in distress, but he didn't answer. Ratchet put the ped back on the berth and signalled for First Aid to check the other, coming around the berth to distract Skywarp before he could decide to panic.

“I need you to tell us. What happened, and does it hurt?” He put his servo on Skywarp's shoulder, leaning forward slightly to block the young mech from seeing what the other medic was doing.

“Hurts!” Skywarp managed, optics far too bright.

“Okay, we’ll do something about that.” Behind him First-Aid put the other ped down and reached for the wires that would block the sensors in Skywarp's lower leg. The seeker gave a little squeak of surprise when his leg went numb, and the medic made short work of the other ped.

“Wha'?”

“I’ve just taken the sensors in your peds offline.” First Aid hastened to reassure Skywarp as the young seeker’s field flickered with his distress. “Does it hurt now?”

“...No…” Skywarp had to think about his response. His peds shifted restlessly. “Can't feel…” He clicked nervously, trying to back up, but Ironhide had a servo on his shoulder.

“Just keep still,” First Aid warned as Ratchet came back down to take a closer look. “Do you want me to get a block to rest his peds on?” He asked his mentor.

“I'll get one.” Ratchet switched to his comm. :: Do you want to try to scan Skywarp?::

:: I can try... I'm not sure I’ll be very successful.::

:: Try it and see, but don’t push if he starts panicking.::

::Okay.:: First Aid moved up to the head of the berth, resting a servo on Skywarp’s wing.

“Can I run a systems scan before we take a proper look at your thrusters?” Skywarp shifted his servo away, but didn’t respond.

“Sky.” Ironhide arrested the movement, placing his own servo over Skywarp’s. “Ya goin’ ta answer him?” Skywarp stared up at him with pleading, frightened optics, mutely shaking his helm. “What’s wrong, kiddo? Ya’ve synced up wi’ Ratch’ a few times. ‘Aid’s no different really.”

Skywarp shook his helm again, engine whining, but didn’t resist when Ironhide gently moved his arm back towards the medic waiting patiently by the berth.

“We’ll sync up first.” First-Aid told him, digits rubbing the slender wrist. Skywarp off-lined his optics and lay, stiff and unhappy, on the padding. His field felt like he was bracing for a painful experience. First Aid met Ironhide’s optics across the prone frame. The older Autobot nodded, and First Aid plugged his diagnostic cable in.

The sync battered his processor with Skywarp’s pain and stress. First Aid shunted it aside with an ease born of practice gained on the battlefield. He allowed their systems to mesh and the younger mech’s firewalls stopped seeing the sync as a threat and dropped back to dormancy. The medic pressed forward, inserting the tendrils of the scan deep into Skywarp's systems, getting the feedback and shunting it directly to his medical databases.

Skywarp’s thrusters were in poor shape. The plating lining them was buckled and split. Skywarp’s self repair was trying to handle the damage, but couldn’t straighten the plating out. There were broken energon lines where the plating had torn them, but not many. The sealant had blocked them so there was no energon leaking, for which the medic was grateful, but the sealant would need to be removed and the lines soldered.

Skywarp’s internal logs showed that his anti-gravs kept trying to activate and First Aid dutifully noted the information, along with the fact that the turbine blades were misaligned. He pinged the file to Ratchet when the chief medic returned with a padded block, which he carefully arranged under one of Skywarp’s peds.

First Aid detached his diagnostic cable and gave Skywarp’s servo a little squeeze. The seeker was making sub-vocal clicks and his optics were still offline. Ratchet joined him, looking down on the prone black form.

“Skywarp? Can you online your optics for me, please?” Skywarp’s optics rebooted, peering up at Ratchet nervously. “Good kid. We are going to have to realign your turbines and straighten the plating. I’m going to give you a choice. You can be awake and have ‘Hide hold your servo while we work, or you can go into stasis. Which do you prefer?” He received a little noise of disagreement in response and a helmshake. “Skywarp?”

“Please...don’t.” 

“Skywarp.” Ratchet’s tone was firm. “Your thrusters are quite badly damaged. Leaving them is not an option.” He got another whimper in response. Decision made he touched the seeker’s cheek. “I’d prefer to put you in stasis. I think you’ll get on better if I do.”

“No!” Skywarp tried to pull away, but Ironhide had taken hold of his servo and had it clasped firmly. His vents hitched in a frightened sob and he shrank back.

“Okay, you want to be awake for it? Are you going to be able to keep still and calm while we work?” He ran his digits across the arch of the seeker’s cheek, field still calm. 

“No! Please!” The three mechs around the berth were being battered by Skywarp’s fear. First Aid looked particularly uncomfortable.

::He’s so frightened!:: The young medic took a step back, trying to escape from the cloying feel of the seeker's field. ::He shouldn’t be this frightened for a trip through the medbay!::

::I know.:: Ratchet was just as distressed. His fellow Autobots were wary of him, true, but they didn’t fear him. They all knew that under the grumpiness and sarcasm, Ratchet cared deeply for all his patients. The Decepticons hadn’t had as many medics join them as the Autobots had, and those that had tended to be what one of Ratchet’s old tutors described as ‘chop shop butchers’. Skywarp had probably not experienced what Ratchet considered to be an acceptable level of patient care. ::I’m going to put him in stasis, it will be much easier on him.::

“Sky, Ah think ya should listen ta Ratchet.” Ironhide was trying to talk some sense into the black seeker. “Ah’d prefer ya ta go inta’ stasis. Ya won’t hafta be out fer long.”

Bright optics stared up at his caretaker, frightened, confused and pleading silently with Ironhide. Ratchet took a pack of rust sticks out of his subspace, offering them to the seeker, encouraging him to sit up.

“Have one of these.” Skywarp took one automatically, looking at it in faint confusion. “Good kid. I want to do these repairs while you are in stasis.” Skywarp shifted nervously and both Ratchet and Ironhide moved to physically reassure him. “It’s going to be much easier on you. I can see how uncomfortable you are.” Skywarp looked at the rust stick again, not meeting anyone’s optic.

“‘K,” he said at last, wings and servos trembling.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll wake up in your own berth in Ironhide’s quarters. It won’t hurt anymore.” Ratchet signalled to First-Aid to bring a stasis chip to him, not wanting the seeker to change his mind. “Finish your rust stick.”

********************************************************************************

Ratchet sat with his helm in his servos in the secure wing of the medbay. It was silent, aside from the gentle hum of the machines monitoring Starscream. Ratchet had successfully repaired Skywarp’s damaged thrusters, but had come to an unpleasant conclusion.

The delicate metal of the seeker's thrusters was not made to carry any weight for long periods of time. Skywarp’s self repair logs had showed the plating starting to warp, although not enough to be flagged up during a medical scan, several cycles previously. Ratchet was angry at himself. He had been the one to argue for the seekers’ anti-gravs to be deactivated, anti-gravs which it now turned out they needed to protect their thrusters.

First Aid had contacted Prowl, Inferno and Hoist to advise them of the situation and request that the other four seekers be brought to the medbay to have their anti-gravs reactivated.

Ratchet needed to reactivate the mechanism for Sunstorm as well, but he wasn’t sure how easy it would be.

Ironhide had taken Skywarp back to his quarters, and was under strict instructions not to allow the young mech to put any weight on his repairs. Skywarp would probably not enjoy the next couple of cycles.

The scanner beeped, signalling the completion of the scan. Ratchet's helm shot up, and his digits flew across the keypad, bringing up the results. He felt guilty having left poor Sunstorm alone in his quarters for far longer than he had intended to, but he needed to get the results to Optimus.

He stared at the screen blankly for a moment, wondering whether he should recalibrate and run the test again. He knew that the first question he would get, no matter the results, would be “are you sure?” so he had checked the calibration before he had started.

The mech on the berth was suffering from irregular spark flares, consistent with extreme stress, and not entirely unexpected in the circumstances. A coding patch would keep them under control until he was aware enough to regulate his own emotions.

The spark itself showed all the signs of a forced fissioning. A second spark had been surgically removed within the past ninety vorns, although there was no evidence of a sparkbond that Ratchet could see. Interestingly, there were some trauma signs around the scar. Ratchet suspected that whoever had forced the fissioning had not been particularly experienced in spark surgery and had caused a lot of damage. It was even possible that the fission had been induced because the spark had rejected the second spark and had nearly ripped itself apart. He logged the damage and moved on.

Information about spark frequency scrolled past next, then the data about intensity, density, and finally the reading for Omega Radiation.

Ratchet read the readout twice, gave a noncommittal grunt, and opened his commline.

::Prime?::

:: Ratchet. Do you have some information?::

::Well, the good news is that Starscream is getting better.::

::That is good. What is the bad news?::

::You need to find a mech capable of handling Starscream in a full-on temper tantrum.::

There was no response for almost a click, before the Prime sent, ::How old is he?::

:: Maybe a little older than Skywarp.::

More silence. Then, ::Frag!::

:: Very much so!::

:: Just...Frag!::

Ratchet got the distinct impression that his superior officer was sitting with his helm in his servos. He sympathised. He had allowed his medical programming to take over his higher processor threads, keeping him calm and measured in his responses. Optimus did not have that luxury.

:: I'm going to bring him out of stasis soon. He still needs a lot of work, but he’ll be worse off if we don't wake him up.::

::How is that going to work?::

:: He's got no optic function, minimal audial reception and currently his vocaliser is staying offline to allow his self repair to integrate the extensive repairs I had to make.::

::So he can’t hear, can’t see and can’t speak? Ratchet, are you SURE that pulling him out of stasis is a good idea?::

::Unfortunately, it will be more dangerous to keep him in stasis. His spark is having problems with flaring and I don’t want to keep giving his coding patches to stop it, so he needs to be awake.::

The Prime’s concern was a valid one, Ratchet knew that only too well. Starscream had just survived a traumatic experience which had involved him being kept in the dark and silence with no contact with other mechs to stave off the creeping sense of isolation and madness. He would be waking up to a similar situation and Ratchet could not predict how it would affect him.

::I don’t like it, I’m going to be honest, Optimus. But I haven’t got much choice. He needs to be awake more than he needs to be in stasis. I’m going to get him patched into the comm system and mechs on comm duty will be instructed that someone HAS to answer the comm when he calls. I hope that will help.::

::Make sure my comm is included. I want to make sure he can contact someone who won’t insult him automatically.::

::Are you sure, Optimus?::

::Yes. I know Red won’t like it.:: Ratchet suppressed a snort at the understatement. ::But I need to do this.::

::It wasn’t your fault, you know. None of this is on you.::

::I know. But I need to help him.::

::Fine. Just don’t come crying to me when you find out just how difficult he can be!::

::I won't. I want to help. I don't like to think of him being alone and unable to contact someone friendly.::


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is angst, with a side of angst!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thirty eight chapters and my hit count is OVER NINE THOUSAND. *Ahem* Sorry, channelling popular anime series! But seriously I get so excited when I see people having read this. I couldn't do it without my brilliant beta CheerfullyMorbid.
> 
> Anyway this chapter has aaaaaaaall the angst (all of it).
> 
> Enjoy guys!

As promised, Skywarp came out of stasis to the sight of the boring grey ceiling in Ironhide's quarters. He sighed quietly, already missing the homely feel of his trine’s quarters on the Nemesis. His chronometer told him it was early in the cycle. Ratchet had clearly put a time delay on the stasis chip. It was something Hook was notorious for among the Decepticons, as it stopped him having to deal with patients who would cause trouble.

His peds still ached, but the pain was not as sharp as before and a warning message in his processor queue told him that his self repair was busy fixing the damage. He relaxed back on the berth padding, feeling the pillows supporting his wings and the insulation blanket tucked around him. Someone, and he would bet it was Ironhide, had carefully arranged him to ensure he would be comfortable.

Skywarp wiggled a little, burrowing deeper into the pile of pillows. He was still tired, but his processor had started pinging him with memories of how he had got into this state in the first place, and worse, memories of how he had behaved after.

He started to worry. There was no way Ironhide would tolerate how uncooperative he had been. He would probably be lucky to escape with his plating intact. A brief hope flared that the Autobot wouldn't have a whip to inflict the standard punishment for an infraction of that kind, but he quashed it. The Autobots operated under standard military protocols the same as the Decepticons did, and a senior officer delegating the punishment of his subordinates was unlikely.

He ran some rapid calculations. Attacking another mech with a blade outside the training room would usually be good for twenty lashes, thirty if he had caused damage (he didn't think he had), less if he had been provoked (but that relied on him being able to prove it). Plus there was his fighting to escape a senior officer. That was a solid five to ten lashes, depending on the officer. Given that the officer was Jazz, it was better to err on the side of caution and say ten. Then there was his refusal to allow anyone to check his thrusters. Technically, Skywarp knew that he would need to be part of a unit commanded by Ironhide for that to count as insubordination, but it would depend how by the book the Autobots planned to be. Worst case that would get him another twenty lashes. Fifty lashes in total. Not a cheering prospect, but Skywarp had had worse, including a hundred laid on by Megatron himself. He hadn't made a sound then, either. Fifty lashes would be a pleasure flight by comparison.

A horrible thought assaulted him. What if the Autobots had developed their own scale of punishments? He could be facing a hundred, or even two hundred lashes, and Ironhide was no lightweight. For sheer force he would not beat Megatron, but he could easily cause plenty of damage. Another worry surfaced, hot on the thrusters of the first. Would Jazz or Ironhide insist that his punishment was public? He didn't want his trine mate to see him taking a beating. Or any of his fellow seekers, especially Sunstorm. He knew how hard Acid Storm had fought to protect the young mech against that sort of thing.

He shivered, suddenly cold despite the blanket. He really didn't want to experience the Autobots’ idea of punishment, but he didn't have any choice.

A knock made him jump. The door slid open and Skywarp could see Ironhide standing in the doorway.

“Ya awake, kiddo?” 

Skywarp was silent and wary, but Ironhide could see the glow of his optics from the berth. He watched the Autobot with suspicion.

“Can Ah come in? Ratch’ has threatened you an’ me with dreadful punishments if ya put any weight on ya thrusters fer at least two cycles.” Skywarp cocked his helm, but still didn’t say anything. “He’s insistin’ ah carry ya, or ya use a hover trolly. Now, d’ya want some energon?”

“Um...yeah.” Skywarp was nervous. If Ironhide was a Decepticon officer, he knew that the mech would have him dragged down to the brig, and his punishment administered there. The Autobots were a different matter. For all he knew, Ironhide already had a whip waiting for him and he would be forced to drink his energon while looking at it. 

“Ok, Ah’m goin’ ta hafta carry ya. Ya gonna be alright wi’ that?”

Skywarp nodded, squashing his discomfort and swinging his peds off the berth. Ironhide was at his side in an instant, big servo pressing on his shoulder, preventing him from getting up.

“What did ah say.” Ironhide sounded exasperated. “Ratch’ says ya can’t walk. Ah’ll carry ya, but ya gotta keep still.” He scooped the slender form into his arms. Skywarp flailed in surprise and Ironhide growled, “Keep still,” in his audial.

He was carried out of the room. Ironhide didn’t seem angry, which boded better for him. A dispassionate mech punishing him was infinitely better than one who was angry. An angry mech would find excuses to extend his punishment.

Ironhide settled him on the couch, giving him a little pat, before crossing to pull a couple of cubes from the dispenser. Skywarp took a covert look around the room, but didn’t see any sort of energon whip. Ironhide was clearly not planning on torturing him while he drank his energon at least.

Ironhide put the cube in front of him with a gruff. “Drink up.” Skywarp looked at the cube, wondering how long he could spin drinking it out for. Ironhide was watching him with a solemn expression. He picked the cube up, sipping it carefully. Ironhide grunted slightly, picking up his own cube and taking a drink, optics not leaving Skywarp.

Skywarp managed to drink three quarters of the cube over about half a jour before Ironhide began looking restless and told him to finish it up. He knocked the last of it back in one go, giving his caretaker a challenging stare. Ironhide didn’t smile.Instead he pulled something from his subspace.

“Ah need ta talk ta ya ‘bout what happened wi’ Sunstreaker.” Skywarp resisted the urge to sneer. It was a very Starscreamesque thing to do when he was in trouble, but he wanted to show Ironhide that he wasn’t afraid. Self preservation told him that making Ironhide angry would be a stupid idea, though.

Ironhide put something on the table with a loud click. Skywarp looked down at it, recognising the deactivated knife that he had taken from the Nemesis. He reached for it, but Ironhide caught his servo. Skywarp braced himself for the big mech to crush his digits, but Ironhide simply picked up the knife before releasing him.

“Ya want ta explain this?” He held the knife in two digits, watching Skywarp with a neutral expression.

“No.” Skywarp knew it was a foolish thing to do, but controlling his impulses was not something he was especially good at. He gave Ironhide a sullen look and the Autobot huffed, knife disappearing back into his subspace.

“Ya know what ah said 'bout ya not bein’ allowed any weapons.” He reached for Skywarp's servo again. “D’ya realise how difficult this makes it fer me ta trust ya?” Skywarp dropped his optics to the table top, angry with himself that the clear disappointment in Ironhide's tone made him feel slightly guilty. “Sky.” Ironhide's servo moved to tip his chin up until he was looking at the blue optics again. “Ah want ya ta look at me when ah’m talking ta ya.” Skywarp twitched, trying to remove the servo, but the grip on his chin tightened slightly. “Where did ya get th’ knife?”

“Quarters.” Skywarp glared at him defiantly.

“On th’ ship?” Skywarp nodded and Ironhide grunted slightly. “An’ why didn't ya tell me when ya found it?”

“I wanted t'keep it.” Skywarp gave a half shrug, trying not to cringe away when Ironhide sighed.

“Why?”

“'S’safer.” Ironhide shook his helm.

“My job is ta keep ya safe.” He reached for Skywarp's servo again, holding it and rubbing his digits over the joints. “Ah can't do that if ya pull this sorta stunt.”

The conversation wasn't going the way Skywarp had expected. The fact that they were having a conversation at all confused him. He had expected to be shoved to his knees and for Ironhide to stand over him, whip in servo. He kept quiet, waiting for the Autobot to reach that point of the lecture.

“If ya find any more weapons I expect ya ta hand them over ta me immediately.” Ironhide warned. “Otherwise ah’ll take action ya certainly won't like.” Skywarp couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief. Ironhide frowned. “Ya can forget about seein’ Thundercracker this cycle. Ah’m not happy with ya behaviour.”

Skywarp huffed angrily, hunching one shoulder and half turning away from his caretaker. Ironhide took his chin again, turning his helm back. 

“If ya want ta see ya trine mate next cycle, ya better behave.” Ironhide released him. “Now, what happened when ya left th’ medbay?”

“Sunstreaker!” 

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t doin’ anything!” 

“Not what Ah asked.” Ironhide resisted the urge to groan in frustration. “What happened?”

“I was goin’ t’the rec room’n he started shoutin’ at me.”

“An’?”

“He pushed me. An’ dropped me.” Skywarp looked sulky. “It hurt!”

“An’ then ya tried ta stab Sunny?”

“No! He pushed me 'gainst th’ wall!”

“Why?”

“Dunno.”

This time Ironhide did actually sigh. “What were ya doin’ at th’ time?” Jazz had said that Skywarp seemed to have been walking quite calmly when Sunstreaker had become aggressive.

“Nothin.’”

“Skywarp. What. Were. You. Doin’?” Ironhide resisted the urge to shake Skywarp, he could see the mech getting stressed.

“Walking down th’ corridor!.”

“So ya didn’t try ta annoy him?”

“No! I was jus’ walking!”

“Fine. Where was th’ knife?” Skywarp looked mutinous, folding his arms and scowling. “Skywarp?” 

They stared at each other for a click, but the younger mech dropped his gaze first, mumbling something inaudible. Ironhide lifted his chin again, servo lingering against Skywarp’s cheek.

“Where was th’ knife?”

“M’arm!” Skywarp snapped the words, jerking himself away. He hunched his shoulders, cringing back, clearly anticipating a blow. Ironhide put a restraining servo on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch and accompanying fear.

“Show me,” he ordered, tone stern. Skywarp shook his helm, defiance flaring once again. “Skywarp! Now, please!” Skywarp hugged his arms more tightly around himself. “Now!” There was a bark of battlefield orders in his voice and Skywarp straightened instinctively. Ironhide gripped his wrist, pulling the arm towards him.

Ironhide stared down at the seeker. It was a stare which warned the young mech that Ironhide could, and would wait for a cycle if necessary. Skywarp broke first, popping the panel in his forearm open and dropping his gaze.

“Ya got any other weapons?” Skywarp silently shook his helm. “Ah’m goin’ ta hafta search ya. Ya realise that right?”

“No!” Skywarp jerked away.

“Yes!” Ironhide kept hold, preventing the seeker from escaping. “Ah can’t trust ya not ta have somethin’ ya shouldn’t.” Skywarp pulled again, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Skywarp!” Ironhide let go of the seeker’s arm and seized a wing instead, giving the wingtip a swift, sharp pinch. The young mech jerked, uncurling in surprise. Ironhide grabbed the other arm. “Open this one too.”

“No!” Skywarp leaned back, trying to pull his hand away.

“Skywarp!” Ironhide took hold to his elbow, putting a little pressure against the joint. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to make the young mech think twice about struggling more violently. Skywarp froze, glaring at him. “Open it!” The panel popped open, revealing the empty space. “Ya got any more?”

“Leg.” Skywarp growled. 

“Open ‘em up.” Skywarp had stopped fighting, and was scowling instead, but he popped open the panels above his knee joints, revealing two more empty spaces. “Good kid.” Ironhide let him go and he curled back up, closing the panels again.

The seeker sulked, arms wrapped around his knees and chin resting on top of them. Wise to the ways of very young mechs, Ironhide ignored his pouting. 

“Ya gonna sit there fer th’ next jour. Ah’m not happy with ya.” That earned him an angry huff, and Skywarp pointedly turned his face away. “Ah don’t think ya started th’ fight, but if Ah find ya’ve been lying ta me again, Ah’m not goin’ ta be pleased.”

Skywarp snorted again, determined to ignore his caretaker as Ironhide moved away. The Autobot was being stupidly soft. He could take sitting for a jour with nothing to do!

Fifteen clicks later, Skywarp was shifting restlessly, making irritated clicks and muttering quietly to himself.

“Skywarp!” The young mech’s helm shot up and he gave Ironhide a venomous look. “Sit still an’ keep quiet, or ya gonna be there even longer.” Skywarp growled softly again, but was quelled when Ironhide gave him another look.

A jour later and Skywarp was staring at the wall, bored out of his processor and regretting having put up such a fuss. It was still a stupid punishment, but he was fed up with sitting still and quietly.

“Ya want ta read somethin’?” The sudden question, coming as it did after a jour of silence, made him jump and stare stupidly at Ironhide. “Ah’ll bring ya th’ crate of data pads an’ ya can choose one.”

Skywarp shrugged. Reading didn’t really appeal, but it was better than doing nothing. If he tried to stand up, Ironhide would probably grab him and dump him back on the couch. That might be amusing the first couple of times, but Ironhide would probably think up another boring punishment to stop him doing it.

“Yeah.”

“Ok, I’ll bring the crate over.” He turned away, crossing to the crates stacked in one corner of the room. He lifted the lid of one, checking the contents, then opened another which turned out to contain the data pads. Ironhide picked it up and carried it over to where Skywarp sat on the couch.

Skywarp looked the data pads over. None of them were drawing pads, but he could see a couple that Starscream used to read to him so he picked one out. Ironhide moved the crate and settled himself beside the seeker on the couch. Skywarp hunched over, pulling away in irritation. He didn’t want to sit next to the Autobot after receiving a telling off and pouted sulkily.

“Don’t sulk, Sky.” Ironhide dropped his arm around the black seeker’s shoulders, giving him a hug. “Ah’m not angry with ya, but ah don’t like ya lying ta me.” He gestured to the data pad. “Ya want ta read that ta me?”

“No!” Skywarp was still sullen, shrugging one shoulder away from his caretaker.

“Don’t be silly, Sky.” Ironhide unwound his arm and put his servo on Skywarp’s shoulder. “Ya can read, right?” He put a slight edge of suspicion into his voice, hoping to goad the younger mech into trying to prove him wrong. Skywarp would definitely benefit from someone understanding the extent of his reading difficulties.

“Yes!” Skywarp gave an aggrieved huff, field reflecting his irritation.

“Good, read that pad ta me.”

“Fine!” Skywarp snapped the word, goaded into action by Ironhide’s disbelieving tone. He powered the pad on, taking a deep in-vent.

***************************************************************************

Pain was the first thing that registered again. Pain all over his body. Every sensor was alight with stinging, burning sensation. It was like being scrubbed in acid. For an astrosecond, he wondered if he had been caught in an acid rain storm. It would certainly explain what had happened. Then he remembered that Earth didn’t have anything like the acid content in its rain that Cybertron did.

The thought bounced around his processor, warring with the pain as he tried to connect the fragmented memories. There was pain...lots of pain...the taste of bad quality energon clogging his intake...a fight with a bigger mech...the sense of so much time passing but his chronometer not registering it...dark...fear...then searing brightness and deafening noise.

The last one seemed to be a newer memory. The others were fuzzy, fragmented, but that was sharp and clear. The thought occurred that perhaps he had been on the receiving end of a blast from Megatron’s fusion cannon. It would explain the pain and light and noise.

Starscream tried to online his optics, but they refused to cooperate. Fear rose, hot and sharp as his processor connected dark with bad-enclosed-small-tight-cramped-letmeOUT! He tried to make his audials work, but they wouldn’t online either. He tried to call out, but his vocaliser wouldn’t engage. Terror clogged his processor. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak, and he was all alone in the dark with pain. Oh Primus, he was going to die!

::...scream, Starscream. Are you picking this up?::

The comm from an unfamiliar sender surprised him, but he snatched at it eagerly, desperate for proof that he wasn’t alone.

::I’m receiving. Who are you? What happened? Where am I?::

::Calm down. Your core temperature and spark pulse have both shot up, and your spark is starting to flare. I promise you are alright, but I need you to be calm.::

::I can’t see.: Starscream tried to calm down, but he couldn’t quell his fear. ::I can’t see...please...I can’t see.:: His vents hitched in a silent sob, then he jumped as something touched his servo. It hurt, a sharp tingling stinging as sensors unused to touch activated, throwing up a flurry of errors and ghost sensations. ::What happened?::

::Calm down. Take a deep vent and hold it for a couple of astroseconds.:: Starscream tried to do as he was instructed, but the vent caught in another sob, and he couldn’t stop it. Everything hurt, he couldn’t see, speak or hear and his only contact with anything outside his own processor and frame was an unknown mech at the end of his commline. Instinctively he flailed, trying to gauge where he was. A firm servo caught his arm, pushing it back down, and he sobbed again at the pain the small movement caused. He was exhausted by the motion and let both his arms lie limply beside him. ::Take a nice, deep, vent.:: The mech instructed again.

::Where am I?:: Starscream brought himself under control with an effort. The panic was still there, but he had this contact with another mech to ground him. He needed to keep the mech talking. His fear spiked again at the thought of being without any contact with another mech, but he pushed it aside.

::Cybertron.:: Starscream had thought he was on a different planet, an organic one...Dirt...no, Earth. Covered in disgusting squishy organic beings. He was sure he remembered battles, and a base hidden under a horrible liquid slop of bacteria, sodium chloride and dihydrogen monoxide. ::We rescued you. Do you remember that?::

::No.:: Starscream shook his helm slightly, but the movement hurt so he stilled again. ::What happened?::

::We got you out of a cell. Don’t worry if you can’t remember. Just stay calm.::

Starscream would be calm. Of course he would. As long as the mech talking to him didn’t stop. He just needed to keep asking questions.

::Who are you?::

::Please don’t panic.:: Well, that wasn’t ominous at all, was it. Starscream had a sneaking suspicion what was coming next. ::You are in Autobot custody.::

He squashed the fresh surge of panic. It would be bad enough for his fellow Decepticons to see him like this, but he would not allow the Autobots to think he was afraid.

::What happened?::

::We rescued you.:: The mech paused. ::The war is over.::

Starscream may not have been functioning at optimal capacity, but he could still read between the lines. The Autobots had clearly won the war. He instinctively knew that this was bad, although the details were fuzzy. The Autobots would hurt him, that he knew. Put him in a cell and not let him fly...He hadn’t flown for so long.

::Who are you?:: Had he already asked that? He couldn’t remember? He thought he had, but had the mech answered?

Optimus glanced at Ratchet, who was monitoring the comm conversation. Telling the seeker who he was just now might not go well, based on Skywarp and Thundercracker’s reactions to him. It went against the grain to lie to the young mech, though.

“I’ll take over the conversation,” Ratchet offered, placing a gentle servo on Optimus’ wrist. He patched himself through to the commline as he spoke.

::Hello, Starscream, are you receiving this?:: He nodded to Optimus, who dropped out of the line, but continued listening.

::Yes. Who are you?::

::I’m Ratchet, I’m a medic. We’ve met before.::

Ratchet...the name certainly registered. An Autobot he remembered. Capture not kill. A medic, that was the reason. The pain and static in his processor made it hard to think. He was sure that the information should be causing him more concern.

::Where am I?:: Was this mech the one he had been talking to before? It was getting more difficult to focus. He had to keep talking and keep this mech answering him.

::You are on Cybertron, in our medbay.::

::Why?::

::You were quite badly injured. I’ve repaired you.::

::It hurts. Why can’t I remember properly? I can’t see.::

::I know. Your optics and audials are still damaged, and your vocaliser is offline to help it heal.:: Ratchet watched Starscream’s spark readings flare again. ::Don’t worry, just try to keep calm. Your spark is flaring again.::

Starscream tried to calm down, but he was blind and deaf and mute and it hurt and he was a prisoner which something was warning him was a very, very bad thing. His vents hitched again and he flinched violently when a servo squeezed his digits again. The movement made his whole neural net sing with agony and he stilled, vents panting.

::Calm,:: Ratchet ordered feeling the swirling field. The monitor was showing flaring spark energies and he needed Starscream to relax. ::You are going to be fine, calm down.::

::What happened?::

::You’ve been injured, and we are repairing you.:: He could feel the young mech’s field as a struggled to bring himself under control. A distant part of his processor was astonished that, despite his pain and fear, the seeker was doing a good job of it. 

::It hurts...It...It hurts.:: 

::I know. I can give you something for the pain.:: Ratchet picked up a pain patch. He would have to download it via the port in Starscream’s wrist rather that the one in the back of his helm. The seeker flinched when the port was uncovered, sharp in-vent indicating that it hurt. Ratchet plugged the chip in.

::Why can’t I remember? What happened?:: Starscream’s field was distressed and Ratchet could understand. The quick glance he had taken at Starscream’s processor threads showed widespread glitches caused by failure to defrag. The young mech would need a manual defrag via the medical computer to force his processor to start working effectively again. Ratchet had already set the programme to run when Starscream recharged.

::You’ve been injured, Starscream. You need to rest and heal. There are a few commlines here.:: Ratchet pinged three commlines to him. ::The first one is the medical line, which is monitored by the duty medic. The other two you can call any time, and someone will always answer one.::

::What if no one answers?:: 

::Someone will answer at least one of them. I’ve made sure of that.:: Ratchet could feel the pain in Starscream’s field diminishing and hoped it would help the seeker recharge. ::Do you want to try to recharge? You’ll feel better.::

::I feel dizzy.::

::That is the pain patch working. Just relax.::

::I don’t like it.:: Ratchet traded a glance with Optimus. Starscream was being uncharacteristically open. He clearly needed to recharge. Ratchet could see Optimus chafing under the restriction on touching the seeker. He wanted to help. Ratchet knew how he felt. He just wanted to hold the young mech and let him know he wasn’t alone, but the uncalibrated sensors across Starscream’s frame were raw and reacting to the slightest touch as damage.

::Keep calm. Does it hurt any more?::

::No. Don’t leave.:: Ratchet’s spark lurched at the plea. Starscream was in a bad way if he would ask such a thing from an Autobot.

::I’m not going anywhere until you go into recharge, I promise. Do you want me to read something to you?::

::Yes, please. Just...don’t stop sending.::

****************************************************************

Prowl knew when Starscream had been brought out of stasis by the way Thundercracker hunched over with a sharp in-vent. The young mech had been putting up with a lot of pain, from his trine mates, and from his injured wrist. Prowl crossed to him and put a gentle servo on his wing.

“Are you alright?” Blue wings twitched and the seeker shifted a little in discomfort. “Is it Starscream again?” Privately, Prowl was relieved that Starscream had apparently come out of stasis without the stress of the last time. Thundercracker was jumpy enough after the visit from Optimus the previous cycle.

It had taken Prowl a full three jours to coax the young seeker out of the wash racks, and then he had sat tensely on the couch, flinching whenever Prowl moved. He had become even more distressed when Prowl mentioned that First Aid had asked them to come to the medbay the next cycle.

:: Prowl?::

:: Ironhide? How can I help?::

::Are you happy for Skywarp and Thundercracker to see each other this cycle? I’d like them to spend some time together. Skywarp has hurt his thrusters and can't walk.::

:: I was going to suggest it. Thundercracker has had a bad few cycles.::

:: I heard he reacted badly when Starscream woke up. Skywarp had problems as well, with both of them in pain at once.::

:: Thundercracker mentioned he could feel pain from Skywarp. I suspect that was when you brought him back to Cybertron?::

:: Might have been before. He got into a nasty fight with Sunstreaker.::

::We have a medbay appointment in a jour. First Aid mentioned something about his thrusters. I take it that has something to do with whatever happened to Skywarp?::

::Yeah. Turns out us turning the anti grav systems off means their thrusters start getting damaged. Ratchet was not happy that Skywarp hadn't mentioned it. I suspect 'Aid will find damage starting for Thundercracker too.::

::How bad will it be? You said Skywarp can't walk?::

::Looks like Sunny dropped him and his thrusters took his whole weight at once. The plating crumpled under the strain.::

::I’ll bring Thundercracker to you when we are finished in the medbay, then.::

:: Probably best. We brought everything back from their quarters on the Nemesis, but it needs sorting. It's easier if we don't have to move boxes and Skywarp.:: Ironhide paused for a moment. ::I’m happy for him to stay with Skywarp this cycle if you are ok with that. He recharged badly last cycle, and was in stasis the cycle before.::

:: I'm happy with that. I think it will be good for Thundercracker, too.::

:: Thanks, Prowl.::

Prowl looked at Thundercracker, who had curled up on the couch, knees tucked up to his cockpit. The young seeker looked thoroughly miserable and Prowl reached out to stroke his wing.

“Ironhide just contacted me. He wants you to come and stay with Skywarp this cycle.”

Thundercracker perked up, wings twitching in interest and expression hopeful. Prowl rubbed his wing again, pleased with the animation the young mech was suddenly showing.

“We’ll go straight to Ironhide's quarters when you are finished in the medbay.” He cocked his helm at the seeker. “You can stay the whole cycle, but I need you to promise you will behave yourself.” Thundercracker shrugged dismissively. “Thundercracker,” Prowl warned. “I need your assurance that if I let you stay with Skywarp, you will do what Ironhide tells you.”

“Fine.” Thundercracker's faceplates scrunched in distaste, but he agreed anyway. Prowl gave him a stern look, and he looked away, not able to meet his caretaker’s optics.

“Ironhide won’t make you do anything you are uncomfortable with,” Prowl assured him. “But if he asks you to refuel, or go back to Skywarp's room, or anything like that, I want to know you will do it without causing problems.”

“Fine.” Thundercracker still wouldn't look at him and Prowl gave the closest wing another quick pat.

“We need to start making our way to the medbay in about ten clicks.” Prowl hoped that the young mech would behave on the walk to the medbay. He had some cuffs in his subspace just in case, but the lure of seeing his trine mate should make Thundercracker more compliant.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are visits.

Thundercracker had not attempted to pull away from Prowl once during the trip to the medbay. The Praxian was pleased with the result. It was a small step forward, but a welcome one nonetheless.

Kup was in the medbay when they arrived, and the old mech smiled at them, crossing to speak with Prowl.

“Hey, Prowl. Guess y’got the same message I did.”

“Kup.” Prowl dipped his helm in greeting, extending his field politely. “I didn't realise you were back from Earth.”

“Got back late last cycle.” The green mech gave him a quick grin. “Brought back loads of boxes of stuff. I’ve only just collected Thrust from Inferno.”

“I take it First Aid is busy with Thrust?” Prowl enquired. Thundercracker was shifting nervously beside him, uncomfortable in the presence of an unknown Autobot.

“'Aid's looking at Blurr. Kid took a nasty fall a couple of cycles ago and displaced his ankle-joint. Ratch’ fixed it so he’s in for a check-up.”

“Where is Thrust, then?” Prowl cocked his helm curiously.

“'Hide and Skywarp brought back a flight simulator. 'Aid got him plugged into it. I’m just waiting for the program to finish.” He saw Prowl looking quizzical and Thundercracker broadcasting sudden excitement, and continued. “Apparently it was developed to make sure the seekers on the Nemesis could feel like flying when they needed to.”

Thundercracker made a hopeful noise, field excited. Prowl looked between him and Kup, field puzzled.

“Thrust did exactly the same thing.” Kup patted Thundercracker on the shoulder. To Prowl’s surprise Thundercracker did not immediately shy away, although his wings did twitch. Thundercracker gave Prowl a hopeful look. The hunger in his field worried the Autobot.

“I take it this flight simulator is used when you were prevented from flying?”

“Yeah.”

The arrival of First Aid forestalled any further questions. The young medic smiled at the trio.

“The flight sim is almost finished. Thrust will be out in five clicks.”

“Thanks, kid.” Kup gave him a nod. “I’ll be ready to help him unplug.”

First Aid looked Thundercracker up and down. “Come and sit down and I’ll take a look at your thrusters and your wrist.” Prowl released the seeker and watched him follow the small medic to a medberth before turning to Kup.

“Tell me about this flight simulator.”

Thundercracker swung himself onto the padded surface of the berth as First Aid activated the privacy screen.

“Can I use the flight sim next?” Thundercracker desperately tried not sound like he was begging, but he knew he wasn’t successful. He suppressed a flinch when First Aid turned to him and put a servo on his wrist.

“I don’t see why not. As long as Prowl agrees.” First Aid was gentle, but Thundercracker was becoming nervous. It was bad enough when Ratchet started poking at him, he didn’t know First Aid at all. He worried that the medic would use his obvious desire to fly against him. He tensed when First Aid began pulling his servo closer. “I'll sync up first ok? Then I can look at your wrist.”

The young medic’s field was serene as he gently opened Thundercracker's medical port and plugged in. He had Thundercracker's servo in a loose grasp, and was gently stroking the palm. Thundercracker's wings were rigid and flared wide as he braced himself, but the sync and system scan merely tickled. He didn't relax, even when First Aid unplugged his cable.

“Your systems seem okay. You should try and get more real recharge, though.” Thundercracker watched him mutely so the medic reached for his damaged wrist. “The weald is set, I’ll take the brace off now.” Thundercracker allowed him to unlock the scaffold around the joint. “Can you move your servo in a circle, please?” Thundercracker complied and First Aid cocked his helm, listening for any irregularities as the joint flexed. “That looks like it has healed nicely. Does it hurt?”

Thundercracker shook his helm, not really trusting his vocaliser. First Aid was obviously ignoring his fear and he was surprised how grateful he was for the consideration.

“Ok. I’m going to check your thrusters.” Thundercracker kept still by dint of considerable effort, despite the instinct to curl his legs under him. “I'm just going to have a quick look with a light.” The medic showed him the small pen torch which he had pulled from his subspace. “If I need to do anything else we’ll talk about it first, okay?”

When Thundercracker nodded, First Aid lifted one of his peds and shone the light into the thruster, angling it to get the best view. He hummed to himself thoughtfully, lowering it and picking up the second one. He made an interested noise, giving Thundercracker's knee a quick pat.

“The plating is just starting to warp a little bit in your left thruster.” Thundercracker made an unhappy noise and First Aid rushed to reassure him. “It's not bad, and your self repair will sort it out soon, don't worry.” He gave the closest knee another pat. “What I need to do now is turn your anti gravs back on. Can you lie on your front please?” 

Thundercracker pulled away slightly, nervous again. First Aid watched him calmly.

“I just need to reconnect a couple of wires in both your thrusters. It won’t hurt and your anti gravs will stop any further injury.”

Thundercracker slowly turned, awkwardly rolling onto his front and twisting his torso to try and keep First Aid in sight. The medic stroked his wing, encouraging him to lay straight and rest his helm on his arms. When the seeker was settled First Aid moved back to his thrusters, gently opening the plating and reaching for the wires he needed to solder. Thundercracker twitched and First Aid stroked his thruster.

“Do you want me to get Prowl to sit with you while I do this?”

“No.” Thundercracker tried to half turn again and First Aid tapped the back of his knee reprovingly.

“Keep still. I’ll be done in less than a click.” Thundercracker subsided, settling himself back down. “That’s better.” Working quickly the medic reattached the wires in the first thruster, and moved around the berth to the other one. “Are you still ok?”

“Yeah.” Thundercracker’s voice was muffled, as he had his face buried in his arms, and he was very tense. He flinched again as a servo was placed upon the other thruster but stayed in place with an effort of will. First Aid stroked the leg soothingly before starting to open the plating again.

The wires were reattached quickly and soon Thundercracker was encouraged to stand and engage the anti gravs. The sudden relief of being able to stand properly without the faint, nagging ache in his thrusters which had been plaguing him for a couple of cycles showed on his face.

“Better?”

Thundercracker hummed in a non committal manner, not wanting to reveal more that he had already. First Aid just shook his helm gently, deactivating the privacy field. Prowl immediately stood from the chair he had been perched on.

“Are you alright?” Thundercracker just shrugged, glancing around the medbay, clearly looking for the flight simulator. “Thundercracker? Verbal responses, yes?”

“Yeah.” Thundercracker huffed, irritated, and Prowl gave him a stern look.

“Are you okay for him to use the flight simulator for a jour before you leave?”

“Please.” Thundercracker was looking hopeful again, field hungry. First Aid made a mournful noise as the sensation caught him.

“If you want to, I’m quite happy with that. I’ll let Ironhide know.”

“Thank you.” Thundercracker’s relief was clear in his voice and field. Prowl met First Aid’s optics, and the medic nodded.

“I’ll help you to get plugged in.” Prowl offered, running a servo down Thundercracker’s wing, before taking his arm and leading him to the flight simulator. The blue mech followed him, allowing the Praxian to settle him in the device.

When the door was closed Prowl stood for a couple of clicks, watching the delight play across the seeker’s face. When he turned back to sit back down, First Aid could see the clear worry exhibited in his posture and field.

*********************************************************************

Sunstorm’s engine was making an excited noise as he maneuvered the brightly coloured characters around the animated landscape. He was bouncing slightly in place, wings twitching, as hordes of cartoon monsters assaulted his character. Ratchet watched, amused, as the young seeker clicked and squealed.

The game controllers had quickly become a huge hit. Ratchet wasn’t so bothered by most of the games on offer, but was willing to try them out because Sunstorm clearly enjoyed them. He planned to invite Groove and Streetwise over in a couple of cycles, to join Sunstorm in playing something. The two Protectorbots were quiet, friendly mechs, and Ratchet wanted Sunstorm to start forming some friendships with mechs closer to his own age.

Ratchet had another plan for the cycle, however, than just letting Sunstorm play games. 

Optimus had managed, by dint of much sweet talking, to get Red Alert to allow Sunstorm to see one of his trine. Ratchet hoped that the visit was going to go well. There was quite a lot that could go wrong. Red had been insistent that the meeting was monitored, but there were still likely to be issues.

On the screen, Sunstorm’s animated avatar died and the young mech hissed in displeasure. Before he could restart the game, Ratchet stood, and put a restraining servo on his wrist.

“Can you save the game now? I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Okay.” Sunstorm was puzzled but obedient, shutting the game down and turning big red optics on his caretaker. Ratchet smiled at him, patting his servo.

“Optimus has arranged for you to see Acid Storm.” Sunstorm made an excited little squeak. Ratchet impulsively pulled him close for a hug, happy at the uncomplicated joy the young mech was broadcasting. “I'm afraid you’ll only have a couple of jours, but you’ll be allowed into his cell.”

“Is he alright?” Sunstorm’s field flickered with uncertainty at the mention of a cell.

“He’s fine.” Ratchet opted not to mention the green seeker’s recent run-in with one of the guards. He refused to say anything about what had happened, but he had displaced the guard’s wrist before he had been overpowered. The guard had been adamant that Acid Storm had attacked him and that he had done nothing to provoke the mech. Acid Storm hadn’t been injured, just slightly scuffed and dented, but his behavior was part of the reason Red Alert had been so reluctant to allow Sunstorm to see his trine mate.

“When can I see him? Can I take him some rust sticks? Please?”

“I don’t see why not.” Red Alert wouldn’t like it, but Ratchet didn’t particularly care. Sunstorm’s field was happy and excited and he wanted to allow the child that feeling as long as possible, Primus knew he hadn’t had much happiness in his short life. “We can go now if you like, but I need you to promise you’ll come away when you are told to.”

“I will.” Sunstorm’s field was unshadowed with any defiance, but Ratchet wasn’t sure he would leave if his trine leader told him to stay. His habit of obeying Acid Storm was far stronger than any obedience he owed to Ratchet, or any Autobot.

“Do you want to get the rust sticks? Take one for yourself to eat on the way if you like.” Although it was only a couple of jours until Ratchet would usually get them some energon, he didn’t want Sunstorm to take any with him. It would be easier to persuade the young mech to leave if he was a little lower on fuel.

Sunstorm snagged a packet of plain rust sticks and grabbed a copper flavoured one for himself, before looking back at Ratchet hopefully.

“Just one!” Ratchet warned before the young mech could ask the question clearly on the tip of his glossa. Sunstorm pouted slightly, but put the packet back. Ratchet patted his shoulder, leading him to the door and taking his arm as they stepped into the corridor.

Sunstorm was calm as they walked to the detention blocks. He nibbled the rust stick happily, and responded to Ratchet’s comments quite cheerfully. He balked a little bit when they reached the high security block where Acid Storm was being held. Ratchet didn’t really blame him. It was a dark, squat, windowless building made of heavily reinforced metal. Not ideal for keeping any mech in, especially a seeker.

“Come on, kid.” Ratchet urged him forward, noting how the golden wings twitched nervously. “It’s just through here.”

They passed into the guard station. Two mechs were on monitor duty, and a third, a heavyset black truck, was clearly waiting for them. 

“Sir, Red Alert has ordered that the seeker prisoner is cuffed at all times while he is here.” Sunstorm pulled back, nervous, as the big mech advanced on him, a pair of stasis cuffs in his servo. Ratchet stepped in front of him, arms folded and expression unimpressed.

“And the Prime has ordered that Sunstorm be allowed to see his trine mate without being subjected to anything which might distress him.” The medic’s tone was calm, friendly and entirely uncompromising. Sunstorm anchored one servo onto the white mech’s shoulder, grounding himself.

“Sir, please.” The tank, Salvage, if Ratchet remembered correctly, was looking worried. On one servo, Red Alert was his superior officer, but on the other Ratchet outranked the security director (just), and was not a mech anyone with any sense wanted to cross.

“Sunstorm is still just a sparkling.” Ratchet informed him calmly, ignoring the expression of shock on the dark faceplates. “I am his guardian. I’m not about to allow anyone to put him in stasis cuffs.”

“Yes, sir.” Salvage nodded, defeated. “This way.” Ratchet took Sunstorm’s servo in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sunstorm’s wings were held rigid, but he managed a small smile at his caretaker. “I don’t want to have to wear stasis cuffs.”

“You don’t. I won’t allow it. Now come, on let’s get you to your trine leader.”

Salvage led them to a cell, ordering the occupant to step away from the forcefield. There was a pause before he obeyed and the black Autobot deactivated the forcefield. Ratchet gently pushed Sunstorm forward, urging him to enter the cell. The forcefield reactivated behind him, but he was already rushing towards his trinleader.

“Sunny!” Acid Storm’s voice was overjoyed as he enfolded his young trine mate in a tight hug. “Oh, sweetspark I was so worried about you!” His vents hitched slightly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Acid Storm was reluctant to let him go, but Sunstorm was wise to his trine leader’s ways and twisted slightly, making the mech break his grip and hold him at arm's length instead. “I made you a present.” He proffered the packet of rust sticks with a shy, hopeful smile. 

“Sweetspark, thank you.” Acid Storm pulled him back in for another hug, desperate to maintain contact with his young trinemate. His spark twisted with worry. Sunstorm was so terrifyingly vulnerable, and he had been unable to protect him.

“I’m fine,” Sunstorm promised again. “I’m fine, nothing bad has happened. I promise.”

*******************************************************************

Thundercracker had a little smile on his face when the programme finished. Prowl couldn’t suppress a little jag of worry. Thundercracker clearly needed to fly. The flight sim would help, but for how long?

Thundercracker started detaching the cables from his frame. Prowl crossed to the device, reaching in and assisting the young seeker. Thundercracker froze, watching him, but didn't scrabble away. He didn't have much room to do so, but he did shrink back against the seat slightly. Prowl patted his arm.

“Lean forward a bit. I'll take care of the plugs on your back.”

Thundercracker twitched but leant forward, allowing Prowl to uncouple the cables around his neck and shoulders. Prowl helped him to his peds and led him away from the flight simulator.

“Are you alright?” Prowl stroked his arm again, giving the blue mech a little smile. Thundercracker nodded slightly, then caught Prowl's look.

“Yeah.” His lips twitched in a rare smile. “It was good.”

“Good.” Prowl smiled back, pleased that the seeker was happier and more relaxed than he had been since he had been captured. “Shall we go to Ironhide's quarters now?”

“Yeah.”

Prowl took his arm, guiding him out of the medbay.

Thundercracker was calm and docile during the walk. He made no attempts to break away, or refuse to move. Prowl was relieved, although he suspected that when it came to separate the young mech from his trine mate, it would be a different story.

He buzzed the call button to Ironhide's door with Thundercracker still standing calmly at his side. Through the door they could faintly hear Ironhide speaking to someone else before the big mech unlocked it, smiling at his guests.

“Hey Prowl, hey Thundercracker.” Ironhide stepped aside, allowing them in before turning his helm and snapping, “Skywarp. Sit back down.” He waved both mechs in, turning to re-lock the door. Skywarp was kneeling on the couch, making excited clicks at his trine mate, and Prowl released Thundercracker's arm, allowing him to rush towards the black seeker.

Skywarp stood, wincing as the fresh welds pulled. Thundercracker grabbed him in a hug, clicking in a worried tone.

“Skywarp, sit down!” Ironhide barked, sounding exasperated. Thundercracker growled, engine snarling, but he pushed his trine mate back down to sit on the couch again. Ironhide crossed to the pair and put his servo on a black wing. Thundercracker kept a faint growl up, but the Autobot ignored him. “What did Ah tell ya, Sky? Ya need ta stay off ya peds. Don't let me catch ya standin’ again ‘til th’ medics give ya th’ all clear.” Skywarp pouted, so Ironhide flicked his wingtip reprovingly. “Don't give me that. Ah’m not doin’ this fer my own amusement.” He soothed over the sting, aware that Thundercracker was bristling beside the black seeker.

“Thundercracker.” Prowl's tone was calm but stern. The blue mech stopped the angry noise from his vocaliser but kept glaring at Ironhide. The big Autobot ignored the dirty look, turning to Prowl.

“We brought a lotta’ stuff back. Sky an’ Thundercracker can sort it while he’s here an’ get it inta a coupla’ boxes for ya ta take.”

“Thank you.” Prowl looked over at the irritated seeker sitting with his arm protectively around his trine mate and added softly. “He's promised to behave. I’ve got his supplements here, but I’ve started giving him a cube with some iron before he recharges.”

“Sky’s got some from Ratch’ ta help him recharge. Ah’ll give 'em both a scoop in th’ last cube.”

“Good idea.”

“Anythin’ ah need ta watch out for?”

“I’m trying to get him to talk more. He doesn't answer verbally, and I worry about whether he understands.”

“Sky has th’ same issue, but he’s tryin’ ta prove his Standard is good enough that he doesn't need ta talk ta 'Jack. Ah got him ta read ta me last cycle though, an’ he’s not great.”

“Thundercracker probably needs to speak with Wheeljack, too. I just need to get him to the point where he doesn't automatically go silent when someone asks him a question.” 

“Sky does that too, if it helps.” Ironhide patted Prowl's arm. “Ya doin’ a good job wi’ that kid.”

“It doesn't feel like it.” Prowl's door wings dropped slightly. “But thank you.”

“Ya welcome. Ya doin’ anythin’ wi’ ya free cycle?”

“I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. I’ve been busy with Thundercracker these past cycles. I’ll have to go back to my quarters now and get started.”

Ironhide nodded and clapped his fist lightly against Prowl's shoulder. The Praxian turned to his young charge, placing a servo on his wing.

“I’m going now, Thundercracker.” The seeker looked up at him silently, servos gripping Skywarp tightly. “I am trusting you to behave yourself.” He stroked the blue plating, feeling the conflicting emotions running through the young mech’s field. Thundercracker's wing twitched, but he didn't say anything. Prowl sighed faintly, turning back to Ironhide who was waiting to show him out.

:I’ll comm you if there are any problems,:: Ironhide promised as Prowl headed down the hall. He saw the Praxian twitch his door wings in acknowledgment before closing and locking the door.

The two seekers seated on the couch watched him with wary optics as he turned back towards them. Ironhide suspected that they both would have preferred to escape to Skywarp’s room, but Skywarp was too heavy for Thundercracker to lift alone. 

“Ya want ta start sortin’ ya stuff out, or d’ya prefer ta go ta Skywarp’s roon ‘till it’s time ta have ya energon?” The two mechs looked at each other, clicking and chirping softly. Skywarp looked up at him again.

“My room.”

“Ok. Ah’ll carry ya through.” He stooped and scooped the young seeker into his arms. Skywarp was still and compliant and his field was reasonably calm, although the ever present nervousness still bubbled under the surface. Thundercracker shifted worriedly, his own field a churning mass of emotions. Ironhide ignored it, not wanting to distress him further. He carried Skywarp to his room and settled him on the berth, giving him a quick hug. Thundercracker stiffened beside him, and he patted the blue seeker gently on the shoulder before turning to leave.

“Ah’ll come an’ get ya in about a jour for some energon, okay?”

Both seekers looked up at him silently, until Skywarp muttered, “‘K.”

“Good kid.” Ironhide smiled, and left them alone.

Thundercracker immediately turned to his trine mate, blue servos roving across his plating, assessing and checking for damage. Skywarp squirmed away, reassuring him that everything was ok.

“I don’t like it. Too easy to hurt you.”

“I’m ok. He’s not done anything.” Unspoken was the ‘yet’.

“What happened on the Nemesis?”

Skywarp chirped unhappily. He had hoped to keep the details of what had happened from Thundercracker, knowing how much his trine mate worried about him. Thundercracker had felt his pain, though, and this close he would not be able to effectively lie to Thundercracker. Haltingly, he started to explain, noting the way he trine mate’s servos curled into fists when he told him about Sunstreaker, and he growled when Skywarp mentioned Ironhide searching him for more weapons.

“What did he do after that?”

“Nothing!” Thundercracker just looked confused. Skywarp understood. Ironhide had never seemed like the type to hold off on delivering a punishment, especially one for a serious infraction.

“Why?”

“Dunno.” He really didn’t. He was expecting a beating, but it hadn’t materialised yet. Ironhide hadn’t even mentioned it. That was the scariest part. More than a few Decepticon officers would wait to administer a beating, but would be sure to hold it over their subordinate’s helm. The very few who wouldn’t were some of the most terrifying mechs in either army.

“Having a knife and fighting an officer. Thirty, easy,” Thundercracker offered gloomily. Skywarp winced.

“More like fifty.” He wouldn’t meet Thundercracker’s optics. “I wouldn’t let him check my thrusters.”

Thundercracker gave him a disapproving look. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Not!”

“Shouldn’t have used the knife. Shouldn’t have let him know about your thrusters.”

“I KNOW!” Skywarp’s emphatic click was much louder than he had expected, and he cringed attention on the door, waiting for Ironhide to come storming through. Thundercracker focussed on the door as well, but there was no sound from the rest of the quarters. “I know.” Skywarp’s chirp was much quieter. “Didn’t have a choice! He saw the energon.”

“Still stupid. Shouldn’t have used the knife.”

“Yeah.” Skywarp stared at his servos. “I wanted to get away.” Thundercracker wrapped him in a hug as he whimpered. “Don’t like waiting!” His vents hitched. “Just want him to get it over with!” Thundercracker just held him, engine rumbling as Skywarp cried softly, pent-up fear and stress pouring off his field.

Ironhide knocked on the door ten clicks later, opening it to reveal the two young mechs cuddled together on the berth. Skywarp tried to hide his sobs, but the Autobot came straight to the berth, reaching for him. Thundercracker growled warningly, but Ironhide ignored him, encouraging Skywarp to uncurl from where he was wrapped around his trine mate.

“What’s wrong Sky?” Ironhide’s field and voice were warm and caring, even when Skywarp clutched Thundercracker more tightly. Thundercracker was still growling and Ironhide gave him an unimpressed look over Skywarp’s wings. The Autobot settled for rubbing little circles across the black plating, wanting to calm both seekers. “What’s wrong?”

There was a mutter from Skywarp where his face was buried against Thundercracker’s neck.

“Ah doubt it’s ‘nothin’,’ kid. When ya get this upset it’s never nothin’. What’s wrong?” He kept the gentle circles moving across Skywarp’s wings and looked back up at the scowling Thundercracker. “Ya goin’ ta tell me what th’ problem is?” He kept his voice level and field free of any accusation, but the blue seeker bristled anyway.

There was another mumble from Skywarp, but it sounded a lot like “S’nothin’” again. Ironhide ignored it, optics on Thundercracker. The young mech’s vocaliser gave a little buzz of static as it reset. Skywarp gave another little whimper, but Ironhide didn’t look away.

“He’s waitin’.” Thundercracker didn’t understand why Ironhide was playing at being obtuse. The Autobot’s face and field were puzzled. “T’be punished.” 

“For what?” His servos stilled, eliciting another whimper from Skywarp, but he kept looking at Thundercracker. Thundercracker’s face twisted in irritation, but he didn’t say anything. “Thundercracker?”

“Knife!” Blue wings lifted and spread in irritation and Skywarp gripped him tighter. Ironhide looked honestly bewildered and Thundercracker gave an aggravated little snort. Skywarp was making unhappy little clicks. They were soft, but Thundercracker could hear his trine mate repeating, “You told him, I can’t believe you told him!” again and again. 

“Sky, come on. Sit up an’ look at me.” Ironhide’s servos were firm, pulling Skywarp upright and turning him so he was looking the Autobot in the optics. Thundercracker growled at the Autobot, but Ironhide ignored him again, concentrating on Skywarp.

Ironhide was genuinely confused. He had talked to Skywarp, told him he couldn’t see his trine mate for a cycle, and made him sit quietly for a jour. Maybe it wasn’t a particularly harsh punishment by Decepticon standards, but anything more would have been disproportionate to the offence. Ironhide wasn’t happy that the seeker had obtained a very small knife and concealed it from him, or that he had felt the need to use it, but Bluestreak and Bumblebee had pulled similar stunts as younglings.

Why the seeker would still be anticipating punishment escaped Ironhide, but Skywarp was clearly distressed.

“Sky.” Ironhide’s voice was gentle, and he took Skywarp’s face in both servos. “Ah’m not gonna punish ya more for havin’ th’ knife.” Skywarp’s field was a riot of emotions. “Or for anythin’ else that happened on th’ Nemesis. We’ve done that an’ we’re gonna move on now, ‘k?”

Skywarp was still fearful, but his field was full of confusion. Behind him, Thundercracker’s anger had also melted to bewilderment. Aware that he was the focus of both seekers’ attention, he pulled Skywarp in for a hug, reaching one servo to squeeze Thundercracker’s arm reassuringly. Thundercracker leaned out of range, suspicious of Ironhide’s motive.

“What punishment did ya expect?” Ironhide wouldn’t admit it, but he was concerned about the answer. He had spent cycles trying to demonstrate to Skywarp that he wouldn’t hurt the young mech, but he had clearly not been as successful as he hoped.

“Whipping.” The answer came from Thundercracker. The seeker’s tone suggested that this was the obvious response, with an undercurrent of incredulity that Ironhide even had to ask.

“What?” For his part, Ironhide was horrified. Both seekers flinched away from his sharp tone, and he hastened to reassure them. “It’s okay. Ah’m not angry, jus’ surprised.”

“Why?” Thundercracker’s question sounded like the seeker was absolutely lost. Ironhide took a deep in-vent, then let it out again, trying the think how to explain.

“Sky, look at me. What did ya expect me ta do?” Best to get it all out in the open at once, that way Ironhide would at least be able to gauge what the seeker had been expecting. Skywarp wouldn’t look up so he lifted the black mech’s chin gently. “Talk ta me, kid.” 

“Fifty lashes,” Skywarp admitted eventually. His expression was frightened, and he clearly didn’t want to tell Ironhide anything. Ironhide stroked his cheek softly, suppressing his instinctive horror. Skywarp and Thundercracker would probably not like it if he got upset. 

“Fifty?” he enquired instead, pleased that his own tone was calm and even. “Sounds like a lot jus’ for havin’ a little knife. Why so many?”

“Fightin’, an’ bein’ difficult.”

“Ah still don't see why ya think Ah’d give ya so many.” He felt Skywarp start to tremble and pulled him back in for a hug. “Don't get upset kiddo, Ah’m not goin’ ta do anythin’. Ah just want ta understand what got ya so stressed.” He took a steady in-vent again. “We would only use a punishment like that as a last resort. Ya'd hafta’ behave far worse than ya did for me ta even think of talkin’ ta Optimus 'bout it. He's th’ only one who could authorise somethin’ like that.” The shaking got worse so Ironhide added. “An’ he wouldn't, not for somethin’ so small.”

Thundercracker was looking at him like he was speaking a different language, and Skywarp was clearly just as confused. Ironhide felt like he didn't have the full story. Fifty lashes was ridiculous, the most that had ever been imposed on an Autobot had been fifteen. That had been for consistent failure to obey orders on the battlefield combined with an attack on a superior officer which had left Prowl badly injured.

“Ah’m not goin’ ta hurt ya, Sky. Ah promise.” The black wings still fluttered nervously, but Skywarp's field was starting to calm. Ironhide released him from the hug, but kept a servo on his arm. “Come on, ya both need ta refuel. We'll sort ya stuff after ok?” He stood as he spoke, sliding an arm around Skywarp's back and the other under his knees to lift the young mech from the berth.

Thundercracker followed obediently as his trine mate was carried into the other room and settled back on the couch. The blue seeker looked poleaxed at the revelation that the Autobots seldom used physical punishment to keep their subordinates in line. The two started a soft conversation in clicks and chirps when Ironhide turned to the dispenser. Ironhide was curious, but the lack of any basic syntax prevented him from translating the quiet sounds.

Both seekers fell silent when he brought three cubes to the table. Thundercracker's expression went wary when he noticed that his cube was open and that the additives were already swirling through the energon, but Ironhide ignored it, pushing the cube towards him.

“Drink up an’ we can start sortin’ ya stuff.” Skywarp sipped his energon readily enough, but Thundercracker took a careful taste first, clearly unconvinced that Ironhide's motives were benign. The mistrust saddened him, but he suspected it was inevitable. Thundercracker was clearly uncomfortable around Autobots in general. “Ah’ve got ya rust sticks here if ya want some, Sky.” 

Skywarp still looked a bit worried so Ironhide handed him the packet. It still contained five or six rust sticks. Ironhide considered asking Ratchet to show the young mech how to make them. The medic was generous with the treats he created, but Ironhide was used to the litany of grumbling he would have to endure if he simply asked for more. Ratchet was always telling mechs that they should learn to make their own.

Thundercracker finished his cube with a grimace. Ironhide suspected that the supplements that Ratchet had prescribed were not pleasant. Skywarp offered the packet to his trine mate and there was some chatter, accompanied by a dark look in his direction, before the blue seeker took a rust stick, tasting it cautiously. Ironhide opted not to react, finishing his own energon calmly.

Skywarp cuddled into Thundercracker's side, field much happier than before. The presence of his trine mate was relaxing him. Ironhide knew they would have to have a longer talk about what had just happened, but it could wait a little.

“Ya want ta take a look at th’ boxes an’ start sortin’ stuff out?” Ironhide wanted to keep both mechs focused on something other than what had happened on the Nemesis. Thundercracker glowered, but Skywarp nodded.

“Yeah.” He shifted as if to get up, but Thundercracker pushed him back, standing himself and crossing to the boxes. There was a brief chirping conversation and Thundercracker was carrying one of the boxes over to the sofa. 

“Good kid.” Ironhide pulled a chair over to join them, voice and field approving. Thundercracker looked up, a confused little frown on his face. Ironhide smiled at him, but he didn't smile back. Skywarp had pulled the lid from the box and was pulling data pads out, stacking them neatly. There was more chirping, accompanied by fluttering wings, and Thundercracker began sorting the stack into two piles.

“Ya want ta put Thundercracker's pads inta th’ box?” Ironhide prompted when the last pad had been removed. Skywarp obediently picked up some from one of the piles and stacked them back in the crate. Ironhide picked more pads up. “Ya want ta sort th’ pads out an’ ah’ll put them away.” Skywarp nodded, pushing the pile towards Ironhide. Thundercracker gave a nervous little twitch, clearly not wanting the Autobot to handle his possessions and Skywarp chirred soothingly at him. Ironhide glanced at the blue mech, but he didn't make any further protest. Ironhide smiled reassuringly at him again.

The first box was quickly sorted. A large portion of the data pads had been packed back up. Ironhide wasn’t especially surprised. Skywarp had not shown much interest in reading so far. The pads still sitting on the floor looked mainly like drawing pads, although one looked like the one Ironhide had read to the young mech back on the Nemesis.

Thundercracker went for a second crate, dragging it back to the couch and opening it to reveal all the bits and pieces they had removed from various cupboards. Skywarp pulled out a small polishing kit from the top and handed it to Thundercracker with a little flutter of black wings. Thundercracker’s mouth quirked into a little half smile and he added the kit to the box of data pads. 

More items came out and were sorted into one pile or the other, including another polishing kit which went into Skywarp’s pile, and the box of pretty rocks, which were put into the emptied crate.

The wing decorations were carefully unpacked. Thundercracker’s field went uncertain when his saw them, which made Ironhide pause. He stood and moved to the young mech’s side. Both seekers stilled, watching him cautiously. 

“Ya ok kid?” He ventured a gentle servo on Thundercracker’s shoulder, calm and understanding threading through his own field. Thundercracker went rigid, disgust beginning to dominate so Ironhide withdrew. “Ya don’t hafta take anythin’ back ya don’t want ta, ya know.”

Skywarp was looking at him curiously, giving a little questioning chirp. He shook his helm briefly, wings twitching a negative and determinedly took the jewelry, packing it in the scrap of blanket. He didn’t want to reveal the reason for his discomfort. Megatron had occasionally enjoyed making him pose in the decorations. He tried to give his trine mate a reassuring smile, but he could tell it had come out as more of a pained grimace.

Ironhide gave him a long look, but didn’t say anything. Instead he returned to his chair and settled himself back down. 

Noticing that Skywarp had pulled something else from the box, and had concealed it behind himself on the couch, Ironhide shot him a hard look. After the issue with the knife, he was less keen to allow the young seeker to conceal anything, however benign.

“What is that, Sky?” He kept his tone light, avoiding any sort of accusation, but he was not about to allow any prevarication. Skywarp jumped, expression guilty, and Thundercracker went still. 

“Nothin’.” Skywarp attempted to look innocent, but squirmed under Ironhide’s gaze. Thundercracker had clearly started getting worried, but kept his expression neutral by an effort of will. 

“Ya put somethin’ behind ya.” Blue optics locked on the black frame, and Skywarp’s wings started to tremble. “Show me.”

The two seekers glanced at each other, Thundercracker clicked nervously and Skywarp’s optics slid back to his caretaker. Another click from Thundercracker and Skywarp pulled out the tub of glitter, wings slumping, before offering it to Ironhide who took it.

“An’ what is this?”

“Glitter.” Skywarp had obviously decided to brazen it out because his tone was challenging, but Ironhide could see how his wings were shaking.

Ironhide looked at the tub. The glitter was silver and he hated to think what it would do if it got into his joints. It would probably act like sand, gumming up gears and causing Ratchet to start cursing. Skywarp was looking increasingly nervous, despite the bravado and Thundercracker was frozen in place. Ironhide handed the tub back, shaking his helm.

“Primus. Just...don’t let me catch ya using it in my quarters.” Skywarp shuffled it out of sight again, relaxing slightly. “Seriously Sky, if ah find that stuff anywhere ‘round here ya gonna hafta clear it all up.” 

“Fine.” Skywarp’s tone was sulky again and Ironhide patted his knee.

“Good kid. Ya got anythin’ else in there that ah should know about?” Skywarp looked shifty so he fixed the seeker with another stern look. “Sky?”

“Glue.” Skywarp exhibited the tub and Ironhide groaned.

“If ya use it in here ah’m not goin’ ta be happy.” Ironhide rolled his optics at Skywarp’s pout. “Ah mean it Sky, ya’ll hafta clean it up.” Thundercracker was still looking worried, so Ironhide huffed a friendly little laugh. “Brat! Ah don’t want my quarters covered in glue or glitter, ok?”

“‘K.”

There was still a suggestion of sulkiness from the black seeker and nervousness from Thundercracker, so Ironhide settled back, letting the two young mechs continue to unpack the boxes.

*************************************************************

Sunstorm was wrapped around his trine mate, chattering excitedly. For his part, Acid Storm had refused to let the youngling go, desperate to keep Sunstorm close and protected. He wasn’t about to give the young mech up. Sunstorm could feel the green seeker’s determination, and had asked him several times if he was alright.

“I’m fine, sweetspark. I’ve just been worried about you.”

“I’m alright. I miss you, though.”

Acid Storm’s servos petted his trine mate’s wings, subtly checking for damage. He didn’t think Sunstorm had been the victim of unkind attentions by the Autobots, but he didn’t trust that it would last. He quashed it, but he was terrified that his pretty little trinemate would catch the attention of one of the grounders, or worse, the Prime. The feeling left him with roiling tanks and a pain in his spark. Grounders would hurt the youngling and he couldn’t keep him safe. 

Sunstorm was happily telling him all about the chemistry he had learned, helm resting trustingly on Acid Storm’s shoulder. The gold mech was telling him how surprised he had been to find out that Icestorm’s stories about the treats he had enjoyed as a sparkling were true.

“I used to like chemistry. Before the war.”

“What did you do?”

“All sorts of things. I used to work in a big lab that made solvents and paints.”

“Did you make rust sticks ever?”

“Sometimes.” He hugged Sunstorm a little bit harder. “I’m glad you enjoy chemistry. It’s a useful thing to know.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Megatron had enough chemists.” His wings dropped slightly, reflecting his sadness. “He needed warriors to rule the sky.” His mouth curved into a rueful little smile. “I’d like to be a chemist again. I miss it.”

Sunstorm made a mournful little noise and hugged him back. His field was full of reassurance and Acid Storm’s spark contracted at the youngling’s eternal optimism. The grounders would crush it out of him. He could see the shapes of the Autobots moving outside the forcefield and the comm unit in the cell crackled to life.

“Both of you stand up and move back against the far wall.” Sunstorm shifted, looking up at him nervously and Acid Storm petted his wings.

“I won’t let them hurt you. We stay here.” Sunstorm relaxed into his hold, still trusting.

“Stand up and move against the far wall.” The speaker robbed the guard’s voice of a lot of its inflection, rendering it tinny, but the mech still sounded irritated. “Now!”

“I don’t want to leave you.” Sunstorm’s voice was soft.

“You don’t have to.” The shapes of the Autobots had disappeared, but Acid Storm knew they would be back. He started rapid calculations, trying to decide where would be most defensible. “Come on, help me move the berth.”

The berth was carefully maneuvered to block one of the back corners of the cell, and Acid Storm pulled the thin padding from it, tucking it into the corner to form a little nest. Sunstorm watched with wide optics, and allowed his trine leader to pull him down and tuck him into the corner. They snuggled themselves together, and Sunstorm shuttered his optics.

**************************************************************************

Red Alert was twitching. He was itching to shout at Ratchet, but the presence of his subordinates in the security center was stopping him. On one of the monitors, the top of Acid Storm’s helm could be seen behind the berth, along with the tips of Sunstorm’s wings.

Red Alert really wanted to point out to Ratchet that the current situation was EXACTLY what he had been worried about happening. The medic was maddeningly calm, and had been since he had ordered the guards not to storm into the cell and forcibly separate the two seekers. He had cited the need not to distress Sunstorm, although Red Alert did not see why. Ratchet claimed that the golden mech was just a sparkling, but all Red Alert could see was another full grown and aggressive seeker.

“I’ve commed Prime.” Ratchet informed him, relaxed and smiling. Red Alert wanted to shake him. “He’ll be along soon.”

“Why? You should have let the guards drag the seeker out of that cell. Or better yet, dropped him with the generators.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “You DID fit him with generators, didn’t you? Primus.” Ratchet watched warily as sparks started to jump from his sensor horns.

“Of course I did, Red. He’s just a kid, much younger than the others, and I don’t want to hurt him.” 

“How young?” The sparks were still jumping, but the security director’s expression was somewhat dumbfounded.

“Ninety vorns.”

“NINETY!”

“Maybe a bit less.” Ratchet was surprised that no one had informed Red Alert just how young Sunstorm was. “His trine mates are the only family he knows, Red, you can’t blame them for being protective.” He decided to try another tactic. “You would be just as bad if it was ‘Bee, you know you would.”

“But...but they are seekers.” Red Alert’s voice was weak, though, and his sensor horns had stopped sparking.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t stop them being mechs who care about each other.” Ratchet ventured a servo on the security director’s shoulder. “Poor kid is terrified of medics and I don’t want to frighten him more than I have to. I’m trying to get him to associate me with more than the medbay.” He shook his helm sadly “He’s been through some horrible things, and he is barely old enough to be out of his first frame. I’m not going to drag him away from Acid Storm if I can avoid it.”

Red Alert slumped, face twisting in pain as the charge collecting under his helm cowl started grounding itself out. Ratchet rubbed his shoulders, leading him to sit down and murmuring reassurances.

“Ratchet, what’s the issue?” The bulky form of the Prime filled the doorway, expression calm and curious.

“Acid Storm is holed up behind his berth with Sunstorm. I don't think he's willing to let Sunstorm go without a fight.” Ratchet shrugged. “We knew it was a possibility. We need to get Sunstorm out without too much stress.”

“I take it that is where I come in?” Optimus asked, forestalling Red Alert’s protest that Ratchet hadn't made any real attempt to remove the young seeker from the cell.

“Pretty much. He's likely to come with you. Acid Storm might give you some trouble, but hopefully he'll hold off if Sunstorm gets distressed.”

“You want me to bring Sunstorm here?” Red Alert made a strangled whine, sparks starting to dance around his helm again. Optimus crossed to him, putting his servos on the security director's shoulders and soothing him.

“No. I need to swing by the medbay to get some tools.” Ratchet opted not to mention that he was planning to reactivate Sunstorm's anti gravs. Red Alert would not be happy and he wanted to spare the mech some stress. “Bring him back to my quarters.” He smiled at his leader. “Sunstorm made some rust sticks and I’m sure he'll want you to try them.”

“I'll have to force myself, then.” Optimus’ voice was comically serious.

“Yes, I know how you don’t like rust sticks.” Ratchet matched his tone, nodding his helm solemnly. Optimus broke first, giving a rich chuckle. “Thanks Prime, I appreciate it.” He took another quick look at Red Alert, satisfied that the mech wasn’t about to crash. “I’ll head back.” He patted Optimus’ arm as he passed. “Comm me if you have problems and I’ll think of something else.”

Red Alert began haranguing the Prime as Ratchet left. Warning him that Acid Storm could be dangerous and trying to persuade him to go in with a couple of guards for back up. Ratchet almost turned back, but Optimus was already soothing the paranoid mech, while not actually promising anything.

***********************************************************************************************

Acid Storm huddled with his trine mate. He knew the Autobots would come soon, trying to separate them. He was expecting them to come in as a group, maybe five or six guards. Intellectually, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to prevent them from dragging Sunstorm away, but a deeper protectiveness told him he had to try.

Sunstorm was quiet and obedient. Acid Storm hated that the sparkling had been hurt so much that he was conditioned not to fight when frightened. It meant that whatever the Autobots did to him he wouldn’t protest much. It made him feel sick, and he held his trine mate a little tighter.

Sunstorm gave a little reassuring croon, picking up on Acid Storm’s upset and trying to sooth it. The green seeker forced himself to relax. No need to make Sunstorm any more unhappy.

Looking over the edge of the berth he could see the shape of the Autobots milling around outside the cell, including the familiar blue and red blur which was the Autobot Prime. His tank churned, as if it was being scoured with acid. He hated the thought of the Prime anywhere near his trine mate.

The forcefield dropped and the Prime stepped into the cell. Acid Storm tensed, holding Sunstorm tighter. The golden mech was gazing up at the Prime with an expression of awe mixed with a little bit of fear. The Prime was smiling and Acid Storm hissed softy, not liking the expression. Sunstorm gave a little whimper, feeling the roiling, negative emotions from his trine mate.

“Hey, Sunstorm.” The Prime’s voice was falsely friendly and Acid Storm started growling, servos clamped onto Sunstorm’s plating with and iron grip. “Can you come out please?” Sunstorm whimpered, twitching, but didn’t move.

The Prime moved to the berth, moving it away from the corner, exposing the two crouched seekers. Acid Storm kept growling and Sunstorm was shaking. Optimus crouched down in front of them, stretching out a servo. Acid Storm tried to scrabble backwards, but the wall impeded his movement. He couldn’t decide whether to risk letting go of his trine mate to take a swipe at the Prime or holding him as tightly as possible. Sunstorm was making a soft keening noise, the stress of the situation getting to him.

The Matrix flared in Optimus’ chest, wanting him to comfort both mechs. He allowed it to gently release a soothing pulse of energy and was rewarded by Sunstorm’s distressed vocalisation cutting off. The young mech looked surprised, and Optimus smiled kindly at him.

“Come on Sunstorm, it’s time to go.” He reached for the golden seeker, very aware of Acid Storm’s tense grip and threatening growl. He allowed the Matrix to pulse more calm at the two seekers, relaxing himself. “Time to go. Ratchet will let you see Acid Storm again, don’t worry.”

One blue servo made contact with Sunstorm’s arm, stroking gently before tugging the seeker, encouraging him to move. Sunstorm struggled away, but was dragged back by Acid Storm. The youngling whimpered and Optimus redoubled his efforts to calm both mechs. He reached for Acid Storm’s servo, attempting to get him to let go. 

“No!” The green seeker let go of his trine mate, swiping franfically at Optimus. The Prime caught the reaching servos in his own, keeping the sharp claws away from his optics. Acid Storm shrieked and thrashed and Sunstorm whimpered in fear.

“Sunstorm, go and stand outside the cell, please.” Despite struggling with the frantic trine leader, Optimus kept his voice calm with an effort. Sunstorm didn’t move, so he put a little bit more command into the order. “Go now, please.”

The golden seeker fled. Optimus hoped that the guards would have the presence of mind to take him away from the cell, because Acid Storm’s frantic cries would undoubtedly be distressing. He remained kneeling in front of the green mech, restraining him, and little by little Acid Storm calmed, angry shrieks becoming sobs. Optimus hummed soothingly, Acid Storm was broadcasting his horror and desolation, wings and shoulders slumped.

Optimus released the clawed servos, stroking Acid Storm’s arms, field filled with calm and reassurance.

“He’s fine, just calm down.” Acid Storm brought himself under control, glaring at the Prime.

“If you hurt him I will kill you!” The seeker’s voice was fuzzy with static and anger was rapidly overtaking his distress. Optimus stood, and Acid Storm scrambled back, hissing threateningly.

“He’ll be fine, no one will hurt him. I promise.” The Autobot turned and left the cell and Acid Storm slumped, disgusted at himself, spark twisting painfully. He knew better than to trust the word of a Prime. The forcefield had been reactivated and he stared at it resentfully. He had failed to protect his trine mate and he hated the feeling. With a shriek, he leapt at the bars of his prison.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is energon.

Optimus found Sunstorm sitting in the guards’ break room. One of the guards was watching him carefully. His face and field were upset and the Prime immediately hastened to comfort him.

“Are you alright?” The mech clearly wasn’t alright, optics overbright and wings trembling. He looked up at the Prime before submissively ducking his helm again, focusing on his servos. He didn’t answer, but Optimus could feel how he reined in his field and his wings stilled.

Optimus pulled a chair closer, dismissing the guard with a nod. He put a servo over Sunstorm’s, stroking and petting him calmly. Golden optics ventured to look up into his face, but dropped back to his digits when he met Optimus’ blue ones. Optimus just carried on stroking the golden servos he was holding, wanting Sunstorm to relax before they walked back to Ratchet’s quarters.

“Do you want to go back to Ratchet now?” Optimus asked at length when Sunstorm was more composed. The young mech nodded, still not meeting his optics. Optimus gave his servo one last squeeze and stood. Sunstorm stood as well, looking at the floor. “Come on.” He ushered the seeker out of the room, servo on his shoulder.

Sunstorm was stiff and nervous as they walked together and Optimus wanted to try to distract him. Distantly he could hear screaming and the shouts of the guards. Sunstorm stopped, whimpering again when a particularly loud shriek sounded. 

“Come on.” Optimus tugged his arm, encouraging him to move on. “Don’t listen.” Sunstorm’s helm was turned towards the noise. He had clearly identified his trine leader’s voice in the noise and his field was becoming distressed. Wanting to keep him from panicking, Optimus scooped the young seeker up, striding out of the detention blocks as quickly as possible. 

Once outside he put the mech down, steadying him as he stumbled, vents hitching.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry….I...I.” Sunstorm was staring at the floor, frantically trying to get his vents and field under control. The Prime would not want to deal with him if he was like this. He needed to calm down, he couldn’t make the Prime angry, it would be due to his own bad behavior and the Prime would be within his rights to punish him accordingly. High Priest Arclight had been very clear about the appropriate punishment for mechs who disturbed the serenity of the Prime.

“You don’t have to apologise.” The Prime’s servo was cupping his cheek. “You are allowed to be upset. Take your time.” He reigned in his field and took a deep in-vent, then another. “That’s it.” The Prime’s field was very calm, supportive and caring.

“I’m sorry sir,” he said again, because he did have to apologise for troubling the Prime. He got himself under control and straightened up.

“It’s alright.” The Prime stroked his cheek again, and he almost looked up to meet the mech’s optics, but caught himself at the last moment. It would certainly not be right for him to gawp up at this mech like some rude youngling. “Shall we go? Or do you want to wait a moment.”

“I...I...I’m ok, if...if you want to go sir.” Because it wasn’t up to him, was it? The Prime dictated what they would do, not him. 

“If you are sure.” The Prime sounded unsure, but he put his servo on Sunstorm’s shoulder anyway. Sunstorm started moving under the gentle pressure, helm bowed.

Optimus wanted to break the awkward silence. He knew the young seeker was unlikely to speak to him first. If he remembered Arclight’s writings correctly the old priest had been very firm that no one should address the person of the Prime without first being spoken to. Arclight had also dictated that no one should debate or contradict the Prime, and that his lightest pronouncement was law. It made Optimus's plating crawl.

“Ratchet says you are learning chemistry.” Sunstorm’s helm remained bowed. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Optimus chose to let the excessive formality pass in favour of striking up a rapport with the young seeker. “Ratchet likes making treats, has he taught you to make any?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“What have you made?” It was hard going. Optimus searched his processor fow how to get more than one-word answers out of the mech.

“Rust sticks.”

“I like rust sticks.” Optimus allowed his field to reflect his interest. “Ratchet is very good at making treats.” He looked down at the top of Sunstorm’s helm. “Which do you prefer, plain or copper?”

“I like the copper ones, sir.” Sunstorm’s voice was soft.

“I like the copper ones, too. Ratchet isn’t a fan. Do you make copper ones?” He allowed how impressed he was to colour his field. Sunstorm’s own field reacted shyly, with a faint flicker of pride.

“Yes, sir.” 

Optimus kept up the, somewhat one sided, conversation all the way back to Ratchet’s quarters. Sunstorm seemed to be relaxing, although he was still responding mostly in monosyllables. Optimus pinged the buzzer on Ratchet’s door, ushering Sunstorm ahead of him when the medic opened it.

“Thanks, Optimus.” Ratchet grasped his leader’s servo. His field was a little troubled, but he smiled anyway. “I appreciate it.”

“He was no trouble.” Optimus suspected that Ratchet had already heard from Red Alert what the repercussions of Sunstorm visiting his trine mate had been. Sunstorm was standing by the wall, servos clasped in front of him and optics on the floor. Ratchet had noticed as well, crossing to the young mech and putting a servo on his wing.

“Come and sit down. I was just about to get some energon.” He gave Sunstorm a little hug. “You want to help me?”

“Ok.” Sunstorm followed him to the dispenser while the Prime seated himself on the couch, watching them. Ratchet glanced back over his shoulder.

“Got your supplements?”

“Yeah. They are horrible, by the way, I’m sure I’ve told you this before.” He pulled the packet from his subspace as he spoke, and Ratchet snorted.

“You have. But they are good for you, and you need to take them, which I’m sure I’ve told you before.”

“Sadist!” Optimus accused, laughing.

“You’re just a wimp!” Ratchet finished drawing three cubes from the dispenser and handed one to Sunstorm. “Give that to the big sparkling over there.” Sunstorm ducked his helm and carried the cube to the Prime, who took it with a soft thanks before patting the seat behind him.

“Come and sit with me.” Sunstorm obeyed, perching on the edge of the couch and looking at his servos nervously. Optimus pulled him in for a hug, engine rumbling soothingly. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Sunstorm’s voice was still soft, and Ratchet handed him the cube before settling next to him, sandwiching the golden seeker between Optimus and his own frame. Sunstorm obediently sipped his cube, enveloped in two friendly fields. He began to relax as Optimus and Ratchet began a light conversation above his helm.

************************************************************************

Thundercracker and Skywarp were cuddled up on the couch where he had left them when Ironhide came out of his room with the tube of nanite gel. Ratchet had warned him that it would need to be put on the wealds inside Skywarp’s thrusters. Ironhide hoped to enlist Thundercracker’s help in applying it. Skywarp would be more likely to cooperate with his trine mate. He crossed to the table and put the tube down, ignoring the silent, worried stares from the two seekers.

“Ah’ve got some nanite gel here ta help ya thrusters heal.” Both mechs watched him silently. “Ratch’ says it needs ta be put on every cycle.” More silence greeted this pronouncement, but Skywarp shifted a little, tucking his thrusters out of reach. Ironhide huffed a sigh. “Ah was hopin’ Thundercracker would be able ta help ya.”

There was a soft, clicked conversation as Ironhide sat back down and picked up his data pad. Skywarp was clearly refusing to do something, if his expression was anything to go by, while Thundercracker sounded like he was coaxing his trine mate, accompanied by soft touches to his wings.

Ironhide pretended to be engrossed in his data pad, but watched them avidly. Thundercracker was clearly winning the argument, holding Skywarp close and chirping softly. The gentle touches to his wings obviously relaxed the black seeker, and Ironhide made a mental note that stroking the top edges seemed to receive a strongly positive response.

Eventually Thundercracker managed to persuade Skywarp to rest his thrusters in the blue mech’s lap. Both seekers kept glancing at Ironhide so he kept his optics on the data pad and his field neutral. The less attention he appeared to pay to the two mechs the better. Thundercracker reached for the tube of gel and detached the little brush. 

Skywarp twitched and pulled his thrusters away again. Thundercracker slapped at the offending limb and Skywarp hissed at him. Thundercracker growled back subtly gesturing at Ironhide, who was still pretending to ignore them. Skywarp thumped his ped back into Thundercracker's lap with bad grace.

Ironhide glanced up at Thundercracker's hiss of pain. The blue seeker looked like he was about to retaliate and Ironhide gave a little frown.

“Play nice,” he warned. Skywarp stiffened and Thundercracker gave a little growl in response. Ironhide snorted. “Sky, don't kick. Thundercracker, don't retaliate.” He gave them a stern look over his data pad and they both subsided. 

Thundercracker grabbed Skywarp’s ped, coating the brush with the nanite gel before pushing the tip into the thruster. Skywarp jerked and gave a little squeal, ped kicking and twisting. Ironhide lowered his data pad, watching carefully. Thundercracker twisted the brush clearly spreading the gel and Skywarp tried to pull back, a little titter escaping him.

It had not occurred to Ironhide that the young seeker might be ticklish, but the jerking and giggling suggested that the young mech had very sensitive peds. He kept his own lips from twitching with an effort, Skywarp’s struggles were getting wilder and his vents were hitching with laughter. Thundercracker was handling him with an ease which suggested long practice. 

Finally the gel was applied and Skywarp was lying limp and exhausted on the couch. Thundercracker glared at Ironhide, who made an amused little noise and stood to pick up the tube.

“Ya ticklish, kiddo?” Skywarp on-lined his optics to give him a half hearted glare and Ironhide shook his helm, field amused, before returning to his room to put the tube away. It was useful information to have, but he wondered how happy Skywarp would be about having an Autobot apply the gel to his peds. Ironhide expected a fight next cycle when he needed to tend to the seeker.

Thundercracker was wrapped protectively around his trine mate when Ironhide sat back down. Two sets of flight calibrated engines were rumbling softly in tandem. Skywarp's struggles had obviously tired him. It was not entirely surprising. The seeker's self repair would be working flat out, sapping his energy.

Thundercracker was obviously much more alert, crimson optics watching Ironhide suspiciously. He resisted the urge to pet the young mech’s helm. Thundercracker probably didn't realise how young the expression made him look. Ironhide remembered the twins treating him to the same look from under a berth when he had first encountered them. 

“D’ya want ta watch somethin’?” He offered. Skywarp's optics came on-line and he gave a vaguely affirmative hum. Thundercracker was silent, but his field held a hint of interest. Ironhide smiled at the two, turning the console on and beginning to flick through the options. He settled on a series of Earth cartoons again, ones without any talking and a fairly mild protagonist in a lurid shade of pink.

Skywarp sighed contentedly, and snuggled more firmly into Thundercracker's hold. Thundercracker's engine spun down from the slightly aggressive note which had started up when Ironhide spoke and he relaxed fractionally. 

****************************************************************

The third time Starscream woke was with another jolt of fear, but much less pain. The pain was still there, hovering on the edge of his sensors, but there was some external coding holding it at bay.

His self repair queue was still full of red flags, but the ones about the lack of defrag time had gone. A quick search of the logs showed that he had gone through a manual defrag cycle while he was in recharge. It made it a lot easier to think clearly, but he still couldn't see or hear anything, and an attempt to call out showed that his vocaliser was still offline.

Abruptly he realised that his fuel tank was pinging him with low fuel warnings, and he twitched. All his limbs felt heavy and sluggish, as if he was trying to move through tar. He couldn't ask for fuel, and couldn't see to find any. His panic abruptly kicked back into high gear.

:: Starscream? Are you awake?:: The comm startled him, the signature was unfamiliar. Dimly he remembered talking to a mech, or maybe more than one, who had read to him while he had drifted into recharge. How long ago had that been? There had been something important about the conversation, he was sure, but it was foggy. Something which had worried him.

::How long?:: He felt like he had been in recharge for stellar cycles. His tanks pinged him insistently.

:: You've been in recharge for just over a cycle. How do you feel?::

::I’m getting low fuel warnings.:: He wasn’t hopeful that he would be listened to. Energon was scarce and it was unlikely that anyone would bother to refuel a prisoner. He knew he was a prisoner, he remembered that much. 

::I’ll get you some energon.:: That was surprising. He could feel the berth moving, lifting his torso slightly. It hurt, little flickers of pain jumping across his wings and back. He tried to raise his servo, but they were both pinned, and twisting them felt like a burning line of fire around his wrists. He was awkwardly propped up and his helm span, dizzy. He would have offlined his optics, had they been working. He slumped back, feeling sick and helm pounding.

::Are you alright?:: He must have been screwing his face up in a grimace of pain and he tried to smooth his expression out. He didn’t want to give his captors any hint of his discomfort.

::Fine, just not expecting to move.:: He arranged his face into a relaxed sneer with the ease of long practice. It hid the panic which was bubbling up under the surface. He squashed with an effort, field under iron control. He would not panic.

He felt sick.

::I’ve got you some energon.::

::Marvelous, except my servos appear to be cuffed to the berth.:: He knew he was being sarcastic, but it was the only weapon he had left. His unknown captor might take offence, might not give him the energon, but he vaguely remembered talking to a medic who said he had been repaired.

He had an uncomfortable feeling that the medic had said he had been captured by the Autobots.

His tank churned. Decepticons were bad enough. Megatron would be creatively nasty, but the Autobots were monsters. Grounders all, with the grounder mentality when it came to fliers. They wouldn’t kill him, not directly, they were too soft sparked just to point a gun at his helm and pull the trigger. Too soft sparked or too cruel, although they probably didn’t see it as cruelty.

He wouldn’t panic, he was alone in the dark, a prisoner and injured. He WOULD NOT panic.

::We don't want you to try getting up, that's the only reason you're cuffed. It’s alright, I’m going to feed you the cube. I need to regulate your intake. It’ll hurt your tank if you take too much in at once.::

::Frag you, I’m not a sparkling!:: Anger had started burning away the fear. A cold, stubborn core remained, but it was hidden under the brighter flames of his rage. ::You know what, forget it, I’m not that low on fuel!::

::You are. I’m looking at your medical readouts right now.::

Medical readouts suggested a medbay rather than a cell. It was looking more and more likely that he was an Autobot prisoner. Megatron would be gloating by now, and Shockwave would not have bothered with the chatter. 

::You’ve had extensive repairs. I need you to take a cube.:: The edge of a cube was gently pressed to his bottom lip, and he closed his mouth firmly.

::I’ll pass.:: The cube was tapped insistently against his lips and he tossed his helm, gritting his denta against the wave of pain the action caused. A gentle servo took his jaw and Starscream tried to pull away, but a digit was slipped between his lips. ::Stop it!::

::You are not strong enough to be force refueled. Just drink, please.:: The energon wet his lips, and he instinctively darted his glossa out to catch the drops. It was plain filtered mid grade, the sort of fuel medics would give seriously injured patients. The cube was tilted again, and he opened his mouth slightly on instinct, allowing a dribble of energon past his lips.

He sucked the energon down hungrily, but the cube was pulled away.

::Slowly. Your tank can’t handle too much at once.:: The cube was tilted back to his lips, and despite wanting to refuse he took another small sip. :: That's good.::

::Frag off!::

:: Language.:: More energon was allowed into his intake and he swallowed again. He hated how helpless he felt, being hand fed sips of energon. He flexed his claws unconsciously, trying to convince himself he wasn't weak. Trying not to let the fear overtake him again.

He finished the cube, accompanied by gentle encouragement from the mech feeding him, to which he responded with sharp sarcasm and cutting comments. Fear swirled through his spark and he shoved it away, hard. He would not show this weakness to an enemy.

They would not win. He was still Starscream. They might have left him blind, deaf and mute, but they would not break him. If Megatron had not succeeded, no Autobot would!


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more tickles, and snark.

Skywarp had woken up a bit by the time the programme finished, and was lolling against his trine mate. Thundercracker seemed to be relaxing as well, for which Ironhide was grateful. The blue seeker kept shooting him worried looks, but they were becoming fewer and farther between.

Both mechs focused on him the moment he stood up and moved to the dispenser. Thundercracker stiffened, and his field became nervous again. Skywarp was picking up the tension from his trine mate, but he didn't look worried. In fact he was making soft, soothing noises. Ironhide hid a smile. The kid was genuinely endearing when he was happy.

He drew three cubes of energon, adding Skywarp's supplements to two of them, and passing them to the seekers.

“There ya go.” Thundercracker was looking at the fuel suspiciously, obviously aware that it had something different in it. “Ah gave ya some of Sky’s supplements. Prowl said ya usually have iron in ya last cube 'fore ya recharge.”

Thundercracker was still looking uncomfortable, but Skywarp chirred softly, starting to drink his own cube. Thundercracker screwed up his face, clearly expecting something nasty, and took a sip. His optics brightened comically when the taste was clearly not what he was expecting.

Ironhide kept the grin off his face with an effort. Thundercracker would resent being laughed at.

“Okay?” he asked mildly. Thundercracker glared again, but Skywarp nodded, a little smile hovering on his own lips. “Good.” He smiled at his charge, pleased he seemed to have relaxed. “Ya want me ta read again?”

There was some clicking back and forth. Thundercracker was wearing a displeased expression. Ironhide suspected that the offer had made him feel like a sparkling rather than a big, tough Decepticon warrior and he resented it. Skywarp was pouting at him and Thundercracker subsided, arranging his expression into one of studied boredom.

“Can you read Redwing's Flight?” Ironhide recognised the title as one which he had read to Skywarp back on the Nemesis.

“Ya want ta find it for me, Thundercracker?” Ironhide asked. “Ah think it's in th’ pile we put in Sky’s room.”

Thundercracker stood, wings stiff, and headed for the other room. Ironhide took the opportunity to sit down next to Skywarp and put his arm around the black mech's shoulder.

“Ya okay now, kiddo?” Skywarp was a bit rigid under his servo, but his field was not distressed. The seeker nodded, although he didn't say anything. Ironhide allowed his engine to rumble calmly as Thundercracker returned, data pad in servo.

The blue seeker stopped short, field nervous and wary. Ironhide beckoned him to the couch and he perched on Skywarp's other side, stiff and uncomfortable. Ironhide took the data pad and settled Skywarp more comfortably into his side. He stroked a servo down Thundercracker's wing, hoping to encourage him to relax a little. Thundercracker twitched away.

On-lining the pad, he started to read, engine still purring gently, feeling Skywarp relaxing against his side. The seeker’s engine began rumbling softly in counterpoint. Ironhide's free servo roamed across his helm, petting it unconsciously.

Thundercracker had perched on the edge of the seat beside his trine mate, not touching him. Skywarp's digits reached for the blue plating, groping for his servo. Thundercracker didn't pull away, but he didn't reciprocate either.

Ironhide could feel the faintest buzz as Skywarp's field started to sync with his own. It was just a start, caused by their close proximity over the past few cycles. They would require far more time together for the sync to complete, and Ironhide was faintly surprised that it had started at all. He made a mental note to tell the other caretakers. 

Thundercracker was still sitting rigidly when Ironhide finished reading. His expression was unguarded and Ironhide could read misery and a bit of loneliness in it and in the young mech's field. Skywarp was watching his trine mate, his own expression hurt. Ironhide suspected that the blue seeker was pushing Skywarp away, probably as punishment for getting close to Ironhide. He remembered Sunstreaker doing the same thing to Sideswipe when the two had been younglings.

Ironhide detangled himself from Skywarp and stood. Thundercracker's flinch was poorly concealed and Ironhide moved around the couch and sat himself next to the young mech. Skywarp cuddled close to his other side. Worried subvocal chirps coming from his vocaliser.

“Ya ok?” Thundercracker drew back slightly, but didn't respond. Ironhide patted his shoulder, noticing how the misery was intensifying. Skywarp was emitting an unhappy keen, burrowing his helm into the crook of Thundercracker's neck. Prowl had mentioned how Thundercracker had reacted to Optimus, and Ironhide wondered if the young mech was worrying that he would be ordered to do something unpleasant.

“Ah think ya both need ta recharge.” Getting them settled together would hopefully help alleviate Thundercracker's worries. He gave the blue plating another pat and stood again, reaching down to lift Skywarp “Come on.”

Skywarp was calm in his arms as he was carried back to his room, and Ironhide marvelled again at the mech’s resilience and ability to bounce back. Thundercracker followed out of grabbing range, and when Ironhide settled Skywarp on the berth, he darted around so that the berth frame was between him and the Autobot.

Ironhide ignored the behaviour, opting to give Skywarp a quick hug before he straightened. The seeker didn't reciprocate, but he didn't stiffen up either.

“Don't stay up too late,” he warned, smiling to take the sting out of his words.

*************************************************************

Ratchet checked the medical channel while Optimus tried to charm Sunstorm into having an actual conversation. He was shy, and reluctant to look up, but the natural charisma of the Prime was winning through.

First Aid informed him that, barring Skywarp and Sunstorm, all the seekers had been brought to the medbay to have their anti gravs reactivated. The young medic also warned him that six guards from the detention block, as well as Acid Storm, had come in. The green seeker had apparently thrown himself against the forcefield, then attacked the guards sent in to subdue him. Ratchet felt a twinge of guilt hearing that. He had no doubt that Acid Storm was reacting to Sunstorm leaving.

Mirage had failed to turn up to his regular check up, for the third and last time. First Aid had gently informed Jazz, in a piece of creative nastiness, that he needed to ensure his subordinates were taking their supplements and had a properly updated medical file if they were not going to come to the medbay. Ratchet gave it a cycle before Mirage AND Bumblebee were in the medbay for a check up with their commanding officer standing behind them and smiling dangerously.

There were more reports of other Autobots having either attended or ducked out of appointments. First Aid assured his commander that he had it under control and was tracking down the mechs who were late. Ratchet knew how ruthless the younger medic could be when he needed to, despite the sweet exterior.

The big news was that Starscream had woken up again, and actually taken some fuel from First Aid. Ratchet had been very relieved to hear that. He had worried that the stubborn mech would refuse to refuel and end up in stasis again.

Sunstorm was responding shyly to Optimus’ gentle teasing. The Prime was telling him a story about Ratchet’s methods of stopping the younger Autobots from stealing his rust sticks. Sunstorm had given a couple of smothered giggles when Optimus described one of Ratchet's better traps. Ratchet vividly remembered the incident, which had resulted in Sideswipe having his servo stuck to a metal countertop with a heavy duty magnet. Sideswipe’s attempts at a plausible explanation had been at least as funny as his expression when he had been caught.

Seeing the young mech starting to relax, he decided to broach the subject of Sunstorm's anti gravs. He hoped that the presence of the Prime, and a natural desire to impress, would encourage Sunstorm to allow him to reconnect them with minimal fuss.

“Have you finished your energon?” He received a nod of agreement and Sunstorm dispersed the cube with a squeeze. “Good kid. I need to reactivate the anti gravs in your thrusters before you recharge, and I’d like to do that now.” Sunstorm looked worried, and Optimus gave him a quick hug.

“Why?” The question seemed to burst out without conscious thought, and Sunstorm immediately cringed. “Sorry…. I…. sorry.”

“I'm not going to be upset if you ask questions, kid. Especially when it comes to your well-being.” Ratchet gave the seeker a hug of his own. “We found out that your thrusters are pretty delicate and that if you walk around with no anti gravs to cushion them, the plating starts to buckle and you won't be able to walk. Plus it hurts.” Sunstorm made a worried noise, so Ratchet reassured him. “It takes a while to get to that point, but I don't want you to have those problems, so I need to turn your anti gravs back on now.”

“I can keep you company if you like,” Optimus offered. He lowered his voice conspiratorially and added. “I don't like having medical treatment, so I know how you feel.” He patted Sunstorm's shoulder. “Ratchet is a great medic though, so you don't need to worry about anything.”

Ratchet stood, putting out a servo to help Sunstorm up. “Come on, we can do this in your room if you like.” Sunstorm allowed himself to be pulled to his peds, but looked lost as Ratchet guided him towards his room. “It doesn't hurt. You can have two rust sticks if it does.”

“He never gives me rust sticks for being a good patient.” Optimus followed them to Sunstorm's room. “He obviously likes you.”

“Ah, but you are a terrible patient.” Ratchet grinned over his shoulder at Sunstorm. “Come and lie down on your front please.”

“I’d be a better patient if you gave me rust sticks.” Optimus gave an exaggerated pout, field amused. Ratchet snorted, helping Sunstorm settle comfortably. The banter seemed to be helping, but the golden wings still quivered with nerves. Optimus ran his servo down the closest one, reassuring.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Ratchet was aware of just how fast he had moved, sweeping Sunstorm ahead of him and getting him to agree to the process, but he didn't want to give the young mech time to dwell on what he was going to do. Optimus had picked up on it, providing a welcome distraction for the seeker. 

“He's so mean to me.” Optimus was stroking Sunstorm's helm. “I don't know how I put up with it.” His voice was laughing and Sunstorm was relaxing slightly.

“He puts up with it because he knows no one else will put up with him!” Ratchet was laughing too, running his servo down Sunstorm's thruster, before carefully popping the panel open. The golden seeker stiffened and Optimus put his other servo on the closest wing.

“I think it's the rust sticks, but if Sunstorm makes them, then he gets to be my favourite.” Sunstorm relaxed a bit under the petting. “You are nicer to me than Ratch’ is.” He tickled Sunstorm's audial and the seeker shook his helm. Optimus repeated the gesture, eliciting a squirm and a little trill of laughter. 

“Tickles!”

“Does it?” Blue digits danced ever so lightly across the surface of his audial for a third time and Sunstorm squirmed slightly, ducking his helm away. Ratchet moved with him, servos busy under his plating. The tickling was distracting the seeker and Ratchet had nearly finished the first thruster. 

Optimus flicked Sunstorm’s nose, smiling in amusement when the seeker finally looked up at him. “You’re a good kid.” The digit flicked his nose again and Sunstorm smiled shyly up at him again. 

Ratchet closed the plating on the first thruster, moving round to the second. Sunstorm stiffened again at the first touch of the medic’s servo and Optimus walked his digits down Sunstorm’s neck to lightly stroke between his neck cables and collar faring. It earned him another squirm and the golden seeker’s attention focussing back on the Prime.

“Does that tickle?”

“Yes.” Optimus tickled again and Sunstorm choked back another giggle.

“I had no idea.” The Prime’s tone was teasing. “You should have said.” He flicked Sunstorm’s nose again. “You’re not as ticklish as Bumblebee, though.” He wiggled his digits against the exposed audial again. “Are you sure you are really ticklish?”

“Yes.” Sunstorm twisted his helm to hide the side Optimus had been tickling, inadvertently exposing his other audial, which Optimus lost no time in rubbing his digits over. Sunstorm gave a little squeal, and Optimus chuckled.

“All done.” Ratchet announced, giving the thruster he had been working on a little pat. He chuckled at the wide-opticked stare he received as Sunstorm sat up. “Don’t look so surprised. I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” He helped the seeker off the berth. “Maybe you can have two rust sticks for being so good.” Sunstorm darted out of the room and Ratchet gave Optimus a little smile. “Thanks, Prime.”

“Poor kid.” Optimus was looking at the door sadly. “He was scared and trying so hard to behave.”

“I know.” Ratchet huffed a sigh through his vents. “Come on. He’ll be wondering what we are doing.”

Sunstorm had two packets of rust sticks in his servo when they entered the room. He brought them both over, offering the plain ones to Ratchet before turning to the Prime and giving him the packet of copper ones.

“Ratchet never makes copper rust sticks. You are definitely my favourite!” Sunstorm ducked his helm shyly, field embarrassed and Optimus pulled him into a hug.

“Why don’t the two of you play something on the console.” Ratchet suggested, taking a rust stick of his own and replacing the packet by the dispenser. 

“Good idea.” Optimus kept his arm around Sunstorm’s shoulders. “You want to play something?” Sunstorm nodded, looking up at the Prime with adoring golden optics. Optimus was pleased that the youngster had got over his dislike of meeting his optics (however temporary it might be), but the uncritical adoration still worried him. He smiled down at the seeker “Come on, what shall we play?”

**********************************************************************

::Hello?:: Starscream cursed himself at how weak the opening sounded. ::Is this channel monitored?::

::Yeah, mech. Blaster here. What do you want?::

::Nothing.:: The denial came easily, but it left him groping for a reason to keep the other mech on the comm. He opted for insults. ::Blaster, right. You’re that obnoxious Soundwave-a-like reject.::

::And you’re that giant birdbrain seeker in the medbay.::

::Hey!:: He was offended. ::I’m smarter than you!::

There was a razz of static through the comm. Blaster clearly didn't think much of Starscream’s intelligence.

::Great comeback! Exactly what I’d expect from an Autobot.::

::Backchat and insults. Exactly what I’d expect from a sparkling.::

Starscream froze, vents stalling. There was no way the Autobots could know, there was no way. He fought down his shock and attempted a cocky answer. 

::Hardly a sparkling.::

::Keep telling yourself that, Screamer.::

::I will. Thank you.:: They couldn’t know, they just couldn’t. ::Primus, you Autobots are dumb.::

::Not as dumb as you think!:: The text of the comm didn’t convey emotions well, but Starscream got the distinct impression that the Autobot was smugly amused.

::Don’t be too sure.:: He snarked back. ::I’m fairly confident you are EXACTLY as dumb as I think.::

::Not dumb enough not to have guessed your little secret.:: Starscream felt like his lines had been flushed with coolant. The important thing was not to panic. The Autobot might be taunting him, trying to make him give up other secrets. They had no reason to even suspect the truth.

::I have many secrets.:: He would brazen it out. ::But I doubt the fact that I think you Autobots are collectively stupider than the average scraplet is much of a secret.::

::Keep telling yourself that, Screamer.::

::You’re the one resorting to name calling, yet you say I’m the one acting like a sparkling? I’d accuse you of hypocrisy, but I doubt you know what it means!::

::Oh, don’t be so sure. You’re not the only smart kid around here.:

::Again with the kid thing! Primus, change the record already!::

::With pleasure, brat!:: The comm suddenly flipped to a radio reception broadcasting some sort of Earth music. Starscream huffed in irritation, but kept the channel open. It was noisy, and obnoxious, but better than the silence.

He tried not to think about why Blaster had kept calling him a sparkling. The aggravating Autobot had probably been trying to psych him out. There was no way the Autobots would know. He reached for his trine, feeling along the trine bond for a sense of them. They were there. The sensation was fainter than he would have liked, a product of not having synced with either of them for too long, but they were there, and content, although there was a thread of worry twining through their sparks. They weren't in pain.

His trine were free, that was the only explanation. They would come for him. He just had to wait.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which unknown facts become known, and known facts are questioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sheepish* Sorry for being a bit late posting this chapter. I was so tired I fell asleep before I could get to it. :(
> 
> As always many thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading.

::Who is on this channel?:: Optimus’ helm jerked up in surprise at the unexpected comm. He had been sitting in his own quarters sipping his last cube of the cycle and trying (and failing) to read a data pad. His processor had really been dwelling on Sunstorm, and how frightened the young mech was of medical treatment.

Optimus had not had much, or any, opportunity to be around sparklings since Bumblebee had been installed into his final frame several thousand vorns earlier. He worried that he was out of practice. Sunstorm’s devoted religious fervor upset him as well. The worshipful expression on the golden mech’s face was worrying. It was a change to have a seeker who didn't seem to expect him to start getting free with his fists (or other things), but the adherence to the words of a long dead priest, who had been a bit of a fanatic if the records were correct, made him feel rather uncomfortable.

:: Starscream?:: The channel ID was not one he knew, suggesting it was the one Ratchet had set up for the young seeker.

:: You expected someone else? Primus, but you Autobots are without a doubt some of the stupidest beings I have had the misfortune to encounter.::

Definitely Starscream. Optimus didn't know many other mechs who would open a conversation with an insult. He opted for a neutral response.

::I’m sorry, you surprised me. I’ve added your ident code to my comm so I know it is you in the future.::

::So you can avoid talking to me, you mean?::

:: Not at all.:: It was a bit concerning that the seeker expected to be ignored when he could not see, hear or talk. ::I’ll talk to you any time you comm me.::

:: I'll believe it when I see it.:: Optimus realised that Starscream genuinely expected to be ignored and was trying to get his retaliation in first before he was cut off again.

::Fair enough. Comm me again later and see.:: There was silence from the other end of the comm. Starscream seemed to have been left with nothing to say. ::How do you feel?:: Optimus wanted to make it easier on the seeker.

::Absolutely splendid.:: The comm didn’t transmit anything of Starscream’s tone, but the mech was clearly either being deeply sarcastic or displaying incredible bravado. Probably both, if anything Optimus knew of the mech was true.

::I’m sure you do. And how do you really feel?:: Optimus realised with a sudden jolt that he didn’t actually know if anything that he had been told about Starscream was actually true. He remembered rumours that the mech had been thrown out of the science academy in Iacon several vorns before the war, and had believed them, it certainly fit. Megatron had attracted the disaffected to his banner.

::How do you think I feel, idiot?:: Starscream was clearly going to resort to name calling if he couldn’t physically reach the subject of his ire.

::I don’t know, that’s why I asked.:: The science academy rumour didn’t work, though. Not if Starscream was the same age as Skywarp. Propaganda, perhaps? Starscream was clearly a skilled flier. He would not have become the Decepticon Air Commander if he had not been. He was also a skilled tactician, but Optimus was wondering where he had learned that. Starscream was a mystery, and Optimus couldn’t guess how much of what the Autobots “knew” about the mech was true.

::I’m bored, of course.:: Optimus suspected that, at least, was probably accurate. Chained to the medberth, Starscream was probably itching for any mental stimulation he could find.

::We could play a game.:: He made the suggestion tentatively, unsure how it would be taken. ::I’ve not got many suggestions at short notice.::

::Oh joy, sparkling games.:: 

::Sparkling games are better than nothing when you are bored.::

::I’m sure.:: There was more silence, then, ::Well, what is this game?::

::I thought you weren't interested.:: Optimus couldn’t resist teasing.

::I never said that. So tell me, Autobot, What is this game? And more importantly, what do I get when I win?::

::You’re very confident.::

::Not confident, convinced.:: Optimus couldn’t tell if this was more bravado, or if the seeker was genuinely that confident in his own abilities. He decided not to push.

::Have you ever tried twenty questions?.:: He paused, but there was no answer. ::I pick an object and you have twenty questions to guess what it is. I can only answer yes or no to the questions. You guess correctly, you win and you pick an object.::

::Sounds simple enough. It’s popular among Autobots, I suppose? What do I get if I win?:: 

::The satisfaction of winning?:: 

::You mean the satisfaction of knowing how much better I am than an Autobot. I know that already, confirmation isn’t much of a prize.::

::How about if I promise to answer a question from you? I’ll give you my word that I’ll answer fully and truthfully, but you need to do the same for me.::

::Hmm, seems a little unequal to me. I have to trust the word of an Autobot to tell me the truth.::

::And I’ll trust you to answer truthfully in turn.::

::Ah, but I know exactly how much the word of an Autobot is worth.::

::Oh?:: Optimus was curious. Something had clearly happened to Starscream. None of the Decepticions trusted the Autobots, but Starscream’s words seemed more specific. Starscream didn’t seem to want to be more forthcoming. Optimus pondered letting it go, but decided to push. ::How much is the word of an Autobot worth to you?::

::You haven't won the right to ask me that.::

::Alright.:: Starscream was obviously not keen on being pushed. ::Shall I go first? What object am I thinking of?:: He would let Starscream win this one, even if he had to cheat a little.

::Is it metallic?::

::Yes, nineteen questions left.:: He had picked a screw as the object, figuring he could change it with ease if Starscream struggled.

At fifteen questions, when Starscream guessed correctly, Optimus wondered if he might be underestimating the seeker. The young mech was asking some very insightful questions.

::You win. What do you want to know?:: 

There was silence. Starscream clearly had a lot of questions. Optimus wondered if he was also trying to word the question to seem as though he was not invested in the answer.

::How did you grab me? I don’t remember what happened, but I can’t imagine Megatron would have been that keen.::

Optimus winced. He hadn’t thought about how he would break the news of Megatron’s death to Starscream. He was so used to everyone knowing, and taking for granted, that the Decepticon leader was gone for good. ::What do you remember?:: he tried, wanting to lead into it gently.

::I think you’ll find I am the one asking the question, Autobot. I’m sure your spy and your security director will be asking all the questions you could want when your medic finishes fixing my audials and vocaliser.::

So Starscream was expecting to be interrogated. Optimus paused to recalibrate his ideas again. This wasn’t a mech who had spent the past earth year adjusting to peace after vorns of war, this was a mech who was still fighting. Starscream had not been present for the final battle, he hadn’t been captured or put in the stockades. No one had talked to Starscream about what had happened.

As far as Starscream was concerned, the war was still going on.

::You’re right, I’m sorry. We found out that you had been locked in an isolation cell on the Nemesis, so we went in to rescue you.:: 

More silence greeted this pronouncement. Starscream clearly knew that Optimus had not really given him the full story. ::You didn’t really answer my question, Autobot. HOW did you get me out?::

::We went back to Earth, using a spacebridge, onto the bridge of the Nemesis. Used Teletraan’s scanners to locate your spark signature, and got you out of the cell using a power saw and a lever to get the door off. You crashed and were in stasis so we cut the chains and bolts holding you there and loaded you onto a medical stretcher and took you back to the spacebridge.:: Optimus knew that wasn’t exactly what Starscream wanted to know, but it was what he had asked. 

::And I am supposed to believe that Megatron and a hundred other Decepticons just LET a bunch of Autobots waltz into the Nemesis.:: He paused. ::I suppose I DID ask how you got me out, not what happened when you did.:: There was another pause. ::Fine. What object am I thinking of?::

Optimus huffed in surprise. His processor spun from the unexpected whiplash in topic. He would play along, though.

::Is it made of metal?::

::No.::

Optimus lost. Starscream’s object was apparently a feather from an Earth bird. It surprised him that the seeker would pick an organic object.

::I get another question, then.:: The Prime got a distinct impression of smugness and braced himself for the query. ::Why did nobody stop you from getting me out of that cell and away from the Nemesis?::

::The Nemesis is empty. There are no Cybertronians left on Earth.::

::Megatron...left me?:: The text of the comm didn’t convey Starscream’s emotion and Optimus couldn’t tell whether the seeker was angry, shocked, unhappy or resigned about the revelation.

::I’m sorry.::

::I’m sure you are. Your turn.::

::Alright, give me a moment...right, what object am I thinking of?::

Starscream lost. Optimus had picked another Earth object, a DVD, which seemed to stump the seeker. He wondered whether the Decepticons had had much contact with Earth media.

::My turn.:: He thought for a moment. There was so much he wanted to ask the seeker. ::You used to be a scientist, right? Where did you study?::

::That’s two questions. I AM a scientist and I have studied in a lot of different places, including Earth.::

That wasn’t as successful as Optimus had hoped. Maybe he should have asked about Starscream’s qualifications instead. ::Your turn.:: 

::Hmmmm, very well. What object am I thinking of?::

Optimus lost again. Starscream had picked an obscure chemical as his object. He was clearly burning to ask his next question.

::Does Megatron know you’ve captured me? Has he started trying to get me back?:: Optimus wasn’t sure if Starscream was hoping that Megatron was trying to get him back, or hoping that he wasn’t. This was about to be an awkward conversation.

::Starscream…:: The words stuck and he didn’t know what to say. ::Starscream, Megatron is dead.:: There was silence so he plowed on, ::He...The war has been over for a while. We moved back to Cybertron and we are trying to rebuild. The Decepticons…::

::You’re lying,:: Starscream interrupted. 

::Starscream, I promise...::

::You’re lying. Autobots always lie.::

::Starscream, Megatron is dead. I’m sorry…::

::Liar!:: There was a click and Starscream’s comm disconnected.

Optimus slumped back on his couch. That hadn’t gone quite as well as he had hoped, but Starscream needed to know. The adamant denial was not unexpected, but he would need to find some way to prove his sincerity, and the truth of what he had said to the seeker.

***********************************************************

Starscream lay on his berth, processor whirling. The Autobot had to have been lying. Megatron was not dead. This was another nasty Autobot mind game. He remembered those well from the last time he had been captured. Last time, Jazz had had him believing that black was white and that up was down, but he was alert to those tricks this time.

He was Starscream, Megatron’s hand picked second in command. The best flier the Decepticon army had. He wouldn’t break.

The war wasn’t over. Even if Megatron had died, the Decepticons were strong enough to carry on without him. They were fighting for their freedom. No Decepticon wanted to go back to being a slave.

He shut down the nasty, insidious processor thread that wondered what would happen to him if the war was over and the Decepticons lost. Deactivation, probably. He doubted the Autobots would make it quick and painless, either. They would lock him up and leave him to go mad while smugly congratulating themselves on how kind and humane they were being.

But that wouldn’t happen because the war wasn’t over. He was a prisoner of war and therefore entitled to certain treatment.

It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t asked the other mech his name. It didn’t matter, but he was suddenly curious.

****************************************************************************

Predictably, the news that Starscream was a barely mature youngling had not been received particularly well. There had been surprise, shouting and, in Prowl’s case, a minor crash of the logic centers as the information overloaded the circuits.

After fifteen clicks of opinions being expressed, helms shaken, and Ratchet swearing viciously as he force rebooted Prowl’s processor, the meeting settled down.

“Are you sure of your scans, Ratchet?” The query came from Prowl, which was a slight surprise, but the quelling look that the Praxian gave to Red Alert when the security director shifted suggested that Prowl was trying to head off further argument.

“Yes.” Ratchet was not about to dignify the question with more than the briefest answer. He was a good medic who knew what he was doing, if his fellow Autobots didn’t respect that well...they would be in the medbay for a routine checkup soon enough.

“Starscream is the same age as his trine mates.” Optimus put in, soothingly, looking around the table. “We need to take that into consideration and decide who would be best to look after him. He’s...difficult.”

“Why? We should just put him in a cell. You know what he is, you KNOW what he has done!” Red Alert was becoming slightly shrill and Optimus placed a calming servo on his shoulder. Ratchet looked like he wanted to say something, probably at volume, but he subsided when the Prime gave him a pleading look. He didn’t want the meeting to devolve into another shouting match.

“I’m not sure how much we supposedly ‘know’ about Starscream is the truth.” Optimus wanted to share the revelation he had had when talking to Starscream. “I mean, we ‘know’ that he attended the Science Academy before the war, and was thrown out...but he was a sparkling back then.”

“That’s a good point.” Ratchet looked thoughtful. “I know he was upgraded while he was still in his first frame, but he can only have been sparked just before the fall of Vos.”

“Where does our current information about Starscream come from?” Prowl was also looking thoughtful, running different scenarios through his processor.

“Some is common knowledge,” Jazz pointed out. The saboteur was joining the meeting via video link from the Nemesis and there was a short delay on the communications. “Some is information from Starscream himself and some is information we picked up from routine surveillance ops.”

“How is it common knowledge...what was the source?” Prowl countered. “And how far can we trust what Starscream has told us?”

“The basics all come from those propaganda vids the ‘Cons put out when Starscream became Air Commander. The ones where he talked about how the Autobots had destroyed his home and ruined his dream of becoming a scientist by throwing him out of the Science Academy.” Red Alert spoke slowly, face set into a frown. “I remember them because we had a horrible job blocking them from the neutral’s frequencies, and we never caught them all. I know there were a few neutrals who joined up after seeing them.”

“Yeah, I remember them.” Jazz nodded, considering the information. “They were all about how th’ Autobots were oppressing the poor an’ certain frametypes. Sentinel Prime insisted we release our own vids t’counter them, but they were never very successful.”

“So you mean most of our information about Starscream comes from the Decepticon’s propaganda machine?”

“Not just Starscream, Prime. Soundwave, the Constructicons, Onslaught, any Decepticon with any rank,” Ratchet pointed out.

“So the information we have can, at best, be described as compromised?”

“That’s about th’ strength of it, Prowler.”

“Fine!” Optimus decided to bring the debate back on topic. “Who do we have who might be able to look after Starscream?”

The mech’s at the table looked at each other. Red Alert was twitching slightly and Jazz was looking unusually serious. 

“What DO we know about Starscream?” Prowl asked. “I mean really know.”

Optimus hummed, thinking back to his conversation with the seeker. “He claims to be a scientist, he comes across as very intelligent, he is likely to start any conversation with an insult, and I think he is terrified.”

“Poor kid.” Ratchet’s tone was sad. “I expect he’ll be aggressive as well.”

“Ah wouldn’t bet ‘gainst tha’ chance, Ratch’.” Jazz shrugged. “Intel all shows th’ kid’s got a temper.”

“He might do best with a scientist.” Ratchet opined, running possible caretakers through his processor. “‘Jackie likes kids, I expect he’d take Starscream on.”

Red Alert was twitching, sparks starting to ground out across his helm. “Let him loose in a lab?” The words were spit out in horror and the security director’s vocaliser was fuzzed with static. “Are you MAD?” Optimus put his servo back on the mech’s shoulder, wincing slightly as a particularly fat spark grounded out in his knuckle joint.

“I’m not sure Wheeljack would be best placed to take Starscream on.” Prowl was still, clearly running multiple scenarios again. His motor functions had locked his joints. “Or Perceptor, or anyone in our science division. They are all a bit placid and wouldn’t stand up to Starscream in a tantrum.” He hummed as another processor thread clicked into place. “There is also the issue of allowing him access to scientific equipment. He could cause a lot of damage if he got his servos on something he could use to create a weapon.”

Optimus looked around the table. Jazz had offered to take one of the other seekers, but he was conspicuously silent this time. “Jazz? How about you?”

“Not a good idea, bossmech. Screamer an’ I have a history.” His usually jovial face was grim. “I don’t think he’d be happy wi’ me.”

“It’s not about his happiness, it’s about protecting everyone from him,” Red Alert snapped. “Since you all seem to think he can’t be locked up until he deactivates!”

A low growl from Ratchet made Optimus’ helm whip around. The medic was standing, glaring at the security director. 

“Ratchet, sit back down, Red, do you need a break?” Ratchet complied with bad grace, optics still locked on Red Alert and growl still rumbling through his chassis. Red Alert stood and stormed out and the tension in the room dropped slightly. “Alright, yes we need to ensure Starscream isn’t a danger to himself, or anyone else. But I don’t want him to be unhappy. We can’t expect him to learn to function in our society if he is angry and resentful.”

“I’ve run some numbers, Prime, and you come up as the best match to look after Starscream.” Everyone looked at Prowl, who shrugged. “I can run them again if you want.”

“No, no it’s alright.” Optimus thought for a click, weighing up the probabilities. Starscream had not had a normal upbringing, and was clearly used to using aggression and a sharp glossa to protect himself. From what he had experienced of the mech on the battlefield, it seemed likely that no one had ever taught him a lot of basic social skills. “I’ll do it!” There was silence for a click. “I’ll do it, I’ll take him on, I’m the best option we have.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more hidden things come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually freaking out slightly over how many words this now contains.
> 
> I will try to learn from this and it will make my writing better!
> 
> Thank you to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta reading, encouragement and sensible comments (TM).

Prowl arrived at Ironhide's quarters after the meeting, processor still dwelling on the enigma that was Starscream. The young seeker was clearly a genius whose talent had been nurtured at the expense of his sparklinghood. Prowl suspected that he would lack a lot of basic social understanding. The thought worried him, and he resolved to try and tease some information from Thundercracker.

Ironhide smiled when he answered the door, giving Prowl a nod of greeting. The main room was empty when he stepped in, and he looked back at his fellow officer, field questioning.

“They're both in Sky's room.”

“Has he behaved?”

Ironhide shrugged. “He’s growled at me a bit, but Ah think it's fear rather than threat. He's a bit twitchy 'bout bein’ touched too, but Ah guess that's not a surprise.” He gestured to the seating. “Ya want ta brief me 'bout th’ meetin’? Ah’ll fill ya in on what Ah’ve found out.”

“Very well.” Prowl relayed the discussion in a drily dispassionate manner. Used to reading between the lines, Ironhide snorted. 

“Ah’m sure th’ decision that Screamer should go home with th’ Prahm went down really well.”

“Red Alert wasn't actually in the meeting when it was discussed…” Prowl's doorwings twitched in irritation. “He isn't comfortable with the idea that any of the seekers are allowed a degree of freedom.”

“Ah love Red, but Primus he has a screw loose.” Ironhide shook his helm sadly. “Ah think he's got worse since th’ end of th’ war.”

Prowl hummed in a non-committal manner, unwilling to speculate.

“Anyway, Ah learned some slightly worryin’ stuff from our seekers.” Prowl flicked a doorwing curiously. “Turns out th’ 'Cons were inta usin’ physical punishment for pretty minor stuff.” He shook his helm sadly. “Sky was apparently waitin’ for me ta drag him ta th’ brig for fifty lashes for his little scrap wi’ Sunny.”

“Fifty?” Prowl's doors flared in shock. “Why so many?” 

“Ah dunno. Ah’m goin’ ta try ta get Sky ta talk 'bout it. Ah found th’ poor kid cryin’ because he thought Ah was makin’ him wait an’ it was stressin’ him out.” He frowned “Ah’ll see what Ah can get out of him an’ let everyone know.”

“Obedience through physical chastisement. It would be wrong even if they were not just sparklings. Fifty lashes? Primus.”

Ironhide reached out and patted Prowl’s shoulder, his own field reflecting his displeasure. “Ah can’t imagine jus’ beatin’ my soldiers inta line.”

“Nor me. I’ll see if I can get anything from Thundercracker.” He determinedly perked his doorwings up, straightening. “I’ll take Thundercracker off your servos now. You said you have some boxes for him?”

“Yeah, we packed it all up. Ah’m afraid there are three boxes, but Ah’ve got a hover trolly ya can take.”

“Thank you. It would be tricky to juggle three boxes and Thundercracker without one.”

“Th’ trolly is by th’ door. Thundercracker’s stuff is in th’ three boxes wi’ lids on ‘em. Ya want me ta try an’ get Thundercracker for ya?”

“Yes, please. Comm me if he’s difficult.”

Ironhide stood, nodding to the tactician, before moving away to knock on the door to Skywarp’s room. “Thundercracker, Prowl’s here, d’ya want ta come out?” There was a pause. Ironhide was about to knock again when the door opened. Thundercracker was standing in the doorway, glowering at the two Autobots, servos anchored to both sides of the doorframe. Ironhide shrugged and turned away, pretending not to notice what Thundercracker was attempting to do. He didn’t miss the way the seeker’s field flared in confusion. Thundercracker let go of the doorframe and stepped back into the room. Ironhide almost turned back when he heard Skywarp whimper. He certainly stiffened, but was aware of Thundercracker’s optics fixed on his back plating.

Prowl was loading the crates onto the hover trolly as Ironhide came over. “I take it he’s not coming out?” he subvocalised.

“He had hold of th’ doorframe. Ah’ll carry Sky out, hopefully that’ll get him movin’ too.” Ironhide suggested, helping him with the last box. “Thundercracker, come on please, Prowl’s got ya boxes loaded.” He crossed back to Skywarp’s room. “Come on Sky, Ah’ll carry ya out so ya can say goodbye.” Skywarp whimpered again as Ironhide lifted him from the berth. Thundercracker was growling, engine rumbling threateningly, but he followed Ironhide out of the room.

Prowl stood as Ironhide approached, setting Skywarp gently on the couch. Thundercracker was hovering, still making angry noises. Prowl crossed to him, not touching the seeker but giving him a very unimpressed look. 

“Thundercracker.” There was warning in the Praxian’s tone and Thundercracker stopped growling, but his engine kept its whine up. “Come along please, I’d like to get back to our quarters.” Thundercracker glanced between him and Skywarp. Ironhide had his servos on the black seeker’s shoulders, keeping him from leaping to his peds. Prowl took Thundercracker’s arm, giving him a little tug to get him moving. “You can push the trolly.”

The blue mech seemed about to dig his peds in and refuse to move, but Prowl tugged his arm again, and Ironhide straightened, which caused the seeker to take a couple of steps back.

“Come on.” Prowl pulled him towards the trolly, a servo on his wrist. “I don’t want to have to cuff you to the trolly, but I will if I have to.” Thundercracker’s wings sagged, and he put his own servos on the handle. “Good mech.” Prowl pushed approval into his field as he shepherded Thundercracker towards the door.

Ironhide obligingly opened it, saying goodbye to the two mechs, a pleasantry which Thundercracker ignored despite Prowl’s silent disapproval. He re-locked the door and turned back to see Skywarp huddled nervously on the couch.

Checking his chronometer, he decided it was a little too early for energon. Instead he sat next to Skywarp, whose wings were twitching and engine whining worriedly.

“Ya okay, kid?” Ironhide didn’t reach for the seeker immediately, wanting to see whether he would come to him for comfort of his own accord. Skywarp wrapped his arms around his knees and didn’t look at his caretaker. “Sky, ya okay?”

“Yeah.” Ironhide observed him narrowly for a moment before putting a servo on his knee.

“Ya sure? Ya don’t look okay.” Skywarp just stared at the wall, so Ironhide pulled the seeker in to lean against his chassis. The seeker was worried about something and Ironhide suspected it was linked to Skywarp’s fears about punishment. “Ya goin’ ta tell me what it is?”

Skywarp heaved a shaky gust of air through his vents, not saying anything. Ironhide was silent, stroking the top of his wings in long, slow strokes, mimicking what he had seen Thundercracker do. He was rewarded by a fractional relaxation of the tense frame.

“I...I…” Skywarp stumbled back into silence, not really sure how to explain what he didn’t really understand himself. The Autobot method of punishment was baffling and he didn’t know how to express his confusion and lack of understanding about what Ironhide wanted from him. He found himself wanting to talk, and wanting reassurance.

“Is it what we talked ‘bout last cycle? Are ya still worried? Ya have my word that ah’m not goin’ ta do anythin’ else ‘bout what happened on th’ Nemesis.” He kept stroking the black wings. “Ah know ya maybe don’t believe me, but ah’m not goin ta lie ta ya.”

“Yeah...I...wha’ d’y’do when...when…” He trailed off again, unable to articulate his thoughts.

“Ya want ta know what sorta punishments th’ Autobots give when ya don’t behave?” Ironhide took a guess at what the seeker wanted, and was relieved when Skywarp nodded. He settled the mech more comfortably against him. “Okay, well it would depend on what ya did.” He felt Skywarp stiffen and let his engine rumble soothingly. “If ya make a mess playin’ a prank Ah’ll expect ya ta clear it up. Ah might tell ya off if ya make a really bad mess. If ya pick a fight it’ll depend how bad it is but Ah’ll probably make ya apologise an’ tell ya off. If it’s bad an’ someone got hurt, or ya use a weapon, or ya keep pickin’ fights, Ah’ll probably confine ya ta ya room fer a cycle, or more. If it’s really bad Ah’ll probably have ya put in th’ brig ta cool off.” 

Skywarp’s field was confused and Ironhide was aware of the yawning gulf between the ideas of the Autobots and Decepticons. Ironhide opted to continue as Skywarp was not showing any additional signs of distress.

“If Ah tell ya ta do somethin’ important, like ta come away from somethin’ dangerous, or ta stop provokin’ someone, an’ ya don't,Ah might put ya in time out like Ah did when we got back here.” Skywarp's confusion just deepened. “If Ah catch ya stealin’ stuff, or ya start tryin’ ta sabotage anythin’, Ah’ll have ya thrown in th’ brig, but Ah don't think ya goin’ ta cause me any problems like that.” He gave Skywarp a little hug. “If ya start tryin’ ta provoke me or get stroppy Ah might stop ya seein’ ya trine or restrict ya flight time when ya start flyin’ again.” That got a very interested reaction. The flight simulator had only taken the edge off his hunger for the sky.

Skywarp tried to reconcile the absurdly light punishments Ironhide had talked about with the fearsome reputation of the Autobots as sparkless monsters. Such lax discipline should have led to the Autobot ranks collapsing into chaos within a vorn. He figured there must be another deterrent that Ironhide wasn't talking about.

“Sky?” Ironhide put a servo on his cheek, turning his face so his optics met the Autobots blue ones. “Th’ war’s over. Ah’m not goin’ ta punish ya for bein’ a Decepticon. Ya didn't have a choice, an’ ya barely more than a sparkling now.” He let go, servo trailing down the seeker’s neck to squeeze his shoulder. 

“I...I don't understand.” The confession was muttered so quietly that Ironhide had trouble hearing it.

“What don't ya understand?” Ironhide hoped to tease some information out of the seeker while he was being talkative. 

Skywarp's vocaliser reset with a buzz of static, but he didn't reply. He dropped his optics, field worried. “I… it’s not punishment.” He looked back up, expression suddenly very young and bewildered. Ironhide wondered how no-one, Autobot or Decepticon, had realised how young the black seeker was.

“Ok, well what d’ya think is a punishment?” Ironhide already had a pretty good idea, but he wanted Skywarp to confirm it.

“Brig, grounding... beating.” The last word was muttered, as if he didn't want Ironhide to hear.

“Ok.” Ironhide took a calming in-vent, wanting to keep his own emotions in check. “What punishment would ya get for a prank with th’ 'Cons?”

“Ummm.” Skywarp hunched his shoulders. “Wha’ prank?

“One where ya move th’ furniture round?”

“Who?” 

“Does it make a difference?” This was proving more difficult than Ironhide had anticipated.

Skywarp just looked confused. “‘F I get caught, yeah. ‘F it’s jus’ a grunt they can’t do nothin’. ‘F it’s n’officer, then depends who!” He was slightly nonplussed. Surely the Autobots had their own internal politics?

“So what if it was Megatron?” Ironhide figured he might as well start at the top.

Skywarp shook his helm. “Only do that ‘f I was overcharged! Would be stupid!”

“Ok, he would be very unhappy, what would he do?”

“Dunno.” Ironhide took another calm in-vent at the admission. “Prob’ly hit me.” His caretaker avoided wincing with an effort, keeping his field as calm as possible.

“What about Starscream? Oh Soundwave? What would they do?”

“Star’d laugh, so’d TC. Soundwave…” He paused for thought. “Ground me. Make me do monitor duty or pump th’ lower levels. Prob’ly not hit me. He don’t usually hit!” 

“How ‘bout other officers?”

“‘F I rank ‘em, depends if Megatron likes ‘em more n’me. ‘F he don’t, then I’d get beaten.”

“It sounds…” Ironhide groped for a good word. “Complicated.” 

Skywarp shrugged. “Pranks are diff’rent. There are rules that y’get beaten f’breakin’.”

Ironhide calmed his frustration and instinctive disgust. “What sorta rules?” He felt Skywarp stiffen again under his servo’s and rumbled his engine gently. “Ah’m not goin’ ta get ideas kid, don’t worry.”

“Fightin’, disobeyin’ orders, gettin’ caught.” He attempted a nonchalant shrug. “Y’officer c’n say ya don’t deserve t’get beaten ‘f y’don’t get caught. If they like y’of course.”

“So if ya officer doesn’t like ya an’ ya get accused of doin’ somethin’ wrong, ya get a beatin’?”

“Yeah.” The calmness in Skywarp’s voice disturbed Ironhide. “But Star likes me so I’m usually ‘k.”

“Usually?” It sounded like there was a story there.

“‘F a higher officer says y’get a beatin’, y’get a beatin’.”

“Primus! Okay, that is NOT how we do things.” He took another in-vent. “No-one’s gonna interfere wi’ what Ah say.” He kept up the gentle engine rumble. “If ya think Ah’m bein’ too harsh wi’ ya, ya can appeal ta th’ Prahm.”

“Megatron used t’make Star punish me’n’TC for stuff.” Skywarp was staring at the wall and Ironhide just hummed encouragingly. “Or get Shockwave t’do stuff.” He fell silent with a little whimper and Ironhide petted him.

“Ya poor kid.” Skywarp was shaking, so Ironhide stood and fetched the blanket from the seeker’s room. The young mech clutched it around his shoulders as Ironhide resettled himself.

“Don’t like medics!” Skywarp’s voice was very soft, but Ironhide caught it.

“Awww, Sky.” He wrapped the seeker in his arms, feeling him tremble. “Ah promise no one will make goin’ ta th’ medbay inta a punishment.” He allowed a little bit of amusement into his field. “Ratch’ would be very upset ‘bout that. He doesn’t want ya ta be frightened.”

“Don’t tell him.” The seeker’s voice was sharp with concern.

“Ah won’t, don’t worry. Ah suspect he knows, though. He’s got Sunstorm stayin’ wi’ him now.” Ironhide let Skywarp go, but laced his digits with the seeker’s in a comforting grasp. “No one is goin’ ta hurt ya. It’s my job ta keep ya safe, an’ Ah promise Ah’m goin’ ta do that.”

Skywarp shook his helm, unwilling to believe Ironhide’s words.

“Okay kiddo, new rule. If ya ain’t sure of my intentions, or ya don’t understand somethin’ or it makes ya nervous, tell me.” He paused, looking at Skywarp’s disbelieving frown. “Ah won’t get mad or punish ya, Ah promise, but Ah don’t want ya gettin’ stressed by stuff that can be easily fixed, okay?”

“‘K.” Skywarp didn’t seem convinced, but Ironhide gave him a quick hug.

“Good kid. Now shall we get some energon?”

*********************************************************

The alert ping from the comm channel made Blaster groan and cover his optics. Hound looked over at him, concerned.

“Do I have to talk to El Screamo?” Blaster dropped his helm dramatically to the console as the ping sounded again.

“I’ll answer it. Unless you want to explain to Ratch’ why you didn't.”

“Primus no!”

Hound huffed a laugh, before picking up the comm.

:: Hi, Starscream.::

::That took you long enough!:: Hound winced guiltily. Ratchet had been very clear that whoever was on duty was obliged to answer the open comm when Starscream called. The medic had stopped short of instructing that whoever answered the comm had to be civil, but it had been strongly suggested that they should at least try not to escalate a verbal sparring match.

::Sorry about that. How are you feeling?::

::How do you THINK I’m feeling.:: Starscream had clearly not received the memo about not escalating things. 

Hound sighed gently. ::I'll guess and say not great?::

::No.:: The mild response seemed to have taken the wind out of the seekers sails. ::Are you aware just how boring it is lying on this medberth with nothing to do?::

::Well, we can talk for as long as you want.::

::You know I can’t decide if this is actually going to be less interesting than lying in silence.::

::That is up to you.:: Hound tried not to snark back. Starscream was a precocious little brat who was trying to get his licks in first, exactly what Ratchet had warned them about. ::What do you want to talk about?:: Blaster huffed a small laugh.

::Who am I speaking to? Not that it matters because I probably won’t remember your name, but it saves me calling you 'Autobot’ or ‘moron’.:: 

::Be nice! I’m Hound.:: Hound caught Blaster’s optics and shook his helm at his fellow Autobot.

::Nice? What does that even mean?::

::It means being pleasant, or good natured.::

::So it is a nebulous, fluffy Autobot concept then. What is pleasant? What is good natured?::

Blaster was laughing uproariously. Hound smacked him lightly across the helm.

“Owwww, that hurt! What happened to playing nicely?” 

“Him, not you - you never play nicely!” Hound grinned teasingly at his fellow Autobot. “Now shush, I need to answer Starscream.”

::Pleasant is being friendly... considerate even. Not starting every conversation with an insult!::

::And why should I? I’m a prisoner and you are Autobots. You are mad if you think that I’m just going to let you take advantage of me because I’m being ‘nice’.::

::Suit yourself.:: Hound frowned. ::You are not really a prisoner, though.:: Had anyone explained this to the young seeker?

::Yes, because I can absolutely get up from this medberth that I’m chained to any time I like, except, no, I’m chained to a medberth and I’m not even allowed to feed myself. Clearly I’m ‘not really a prisoner’.::

::I’ll let someone else talk to you about that, then. I’m not the one to discuss it with.::

::Coward!:: Starscream was obviously taunting him. Hound let it wash over him, composing a sternly worded message to Prowl on his console for allowing those tasked with comming Starscream to be put in such an awkward situation.

::Not really, but call it what you like. You are a lot more talkative than Skywarp, I have to say.:: Hound hoped that a bit of information about his trine mate would make Starscream a little easier to talk to. The young mech was clearly still no fan of the Autobots.

::Hardly.:: Hound could almost hear Starscream’s derisive snort.

::When I last saw him, I could barely get two words out of him.::

The commline was silent for several clicks. Hound was just about to send a further message when Starscream responded. ::Oh, when was that? Because he usually just giggles maniacally when shooting Autobots.::

::A couple of cycles ago, we were moving some stuff. He wasn’t inclined to talk. I was trying to get him to calm down a little, to be honest. He seems really twitchy.::

There was more silence. Hound wondered what Starscream was thinking. Suddenly the commline shut off with a click, leaving Hound and Blaster staring at each other in bewilderment.

**************************************************************

::Where are my trine mates?:: Anger boiled through Starscream’s line. Hound’s words had sent a shard of ice into his spark. Skywarp was frightened, and no wonder. He reached for them across the trine bond, but the return ping was just enough to tell him that they were online, and that neither was particularly happy. ::Where are they, Autobot?::

::Hello Starscream, are you alright?::

::Skip the small talk, Autobot. Where. Are. My. Trine?::

::They are fine. Skywarp is staying with Ironhide and Thundercracker is with Prowl.::

::How do you know they are fine? What makes you think anything about this is remotely fine?:: He was furious that the Autobots had not told him that his trine were prisoners. ::Primus, how many Decepticons have you got as prisoners that you Autobots can just hand them out to whoever wants a slave?:: He was trembling with anger which was covering a deeper, older fear. 

::Starscream! I need you to calm down now.:: The new commline dropped into the channel, startling him. ::Your spark is flaring again and your vitals are all over the place. Calm down. Please.:: It was the medical channel, he realised belatedly, but the medic wasn’t finished. ::Prime, whatever you are talking about with Starscream, I need you to change the topic now please.::

The Prime? He was talking to Optimus fragging Prime? Starscream felt physically sick.

::Starscream, calm down.:: He jumped as a painful tingling pressure manifested itself on his servo. He felt the medical port pop open and someone plug a medical jack in. He would have hissed at the pain had his vocaliser been on-line. The medic quickly synced with his systems before starting a scan. He tried to do what the mech suggested and calm himself, but his battle protocols were flaring to life. ::I’m going to have to put you in stasis, Starscream. Your spark is not strong enough to handle this much stress.::

::No!:: Like pit was he about to let them shove him back in stasis.

::I’m not asking, I’m telling. I need to put you in stasis right now, the spark flares you are experiencing could cause irreparable damage.:: There was the tingling sting of the medical jack being removed, then nothing as stasis engulfed him.

First Aid looked down at the young mech on the berth. The screaming alarms warning that his spark was flaring dangerously fell silent as the coding patch took effect. Starscream would not be happy when he woke. Belatedly, First Aid realised that the commline that Starscream had been using was still open.

::Is he alright?:: Trust the Prime to ask. First Aid smiled at the concern even as his digits flew over the keypad of the spark monitor.

::He'll be fine. He needs to keep from getting so stressed though. I'll keep him under for the time being and wake him later for some energon.::

:: Very well. Let me know how he gets on.:: The commline closed with a click and First Aid looked back at his patient. He seemed deceptively calm and sweet in stasis.

*********************************************************************

Optimus fretted gently. Starscream's words had cut to the quick. 'You can just hand them out to whoever wants a slave.’ The accusation stung. Worse, he didn't know whether Starscream had flung it at him because he was angry and upset or whether the seeker genuinely believed what he was saying.

He suspected the latter. Acid Storm had mentioned grounders enslaving seekers as well, and with the exception of Sunstorm, all the seekers being held seemed to expect the worst from the Autobots.

He wracked his memory banks for any scrap of information about Vos, and what the High Council and previous Primes had done there. There were little bits and scraps of half remembered data. Things he had read, back when he had still been an archivist. A huge amount of information had flowed through his terminal and he remembered so little of it.

One nugget stood out. The wages in Vos had been lower than most other city states. The factories in Vos had been highly profitable for their owners. Low wages and high prices created an ideal situation. Senator Crosshatch, who had owned two of the biggest factories in Vos, had declared a pretty significant amount of credits each vorn, in addition to his considerable salary as a member of the High Council.

Salaries had been low, but the mechs being paid them hadn’t been slaves. Vosians had required permits to fly outside Vos, but the same was true for any flight capable mecha. Like Altihexians, Vosians had been rare outside their home state and Optimus could only remember seeing one or two in Iacon.

Iacon had plenty of indentured servants, of course. They were practically slaves, aside from a particularly pedantic bit of law. Indentured servants could not travel without their master’s permission, and while they were officially paid, the credits were almost all taken to pay for their energon, accommodation, medical treatment and even the items they used in their daily jobs. 

But they were not Vosians, not seekers. Most indentured servants were small, delicate mechs, but without alt modes. Optimus remembered a scrap of data that most of them were sparked as servants, or were orphans. They were too poor to afford upgrades to a full frame, and very few ever managed to save enough credits.

Optimus shook his helm. He needed to search Teletraan’s data banks to see if any scraps remained. It wasn’t likely. Teletraan had lost so much over the vorns their planet had been at war. Data that hadn’t provided any tactical advantage had not been recovered. Individuals could only remember so much. If they could find some of the old archives they might discover more, but the chances were remote.

Little though he wanted to, Optimus knew he was going to have to talk to Acid Storm and Icestorm again. The two adult seekers were uncooperative and angry, and neither would want to tell him anything. He wondered if allowing them to see each other might make them a bit more cooperative.

First though, he needed to arrange for Skywarp and Thundercracker to see and be able to talk to Starscream. Starscream needed to be assured that his trine were healthy and unharmed, and Thundercracker and Skywarp needed to see their trine mate and reconnect with him.

Decision made, Optimus started making the necessary comm calls.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are further revelations.

Icestorm paced his cell restlessly. He could feel Acid Storm’s distress through the trine bond. He knew that his trine mates had been allowed to spend time together, and had felt the repercussions when they were separated. His spark ached for them both and he was desperate to see them, but he knew the Autobots would be unlikely to allow him the opportunity.

The crackle of the cell’s comm startled him and the pale blue seeker squared up to the Autobots standing outside.

“Move back against the wall and put your servos out in front of you.” 

Icestorm didn't move. If the Autobots wanted him, they would have to drag him out literally kicking and screaming. He could see the shapes outside the cell hovering indecisively before the order came through the comm again.

More shapes joined them when he stayed where he was, and he braced himself for the inevitable rush as the forcefield was deactivated. The Autobots advanced quickly, piling on to him and pinning him to the floor. He kicked and fought, but there were too many and his servos were cuffed behind him, stasis field activating.

Four big grounders marched him out of the cell, ignoring his growls, and dragged him down the hallway. He was pushed into a room with a table and three chairs and unceremoniously dumped into one of the seats. His cuffs were deactivated while one guard held him in place and a second grabbed his servos, pushing them to the tabletop and magnetising them to the metal.

Icestorm strained against the cuffs trying to rock back and topple the table, but it was firmly fixed to the floor. Three of the guards left, leaving one, who retired to stand by the door out of his line of sight. Seating him with his back to the door was a deliberate tactic to disorient a prisoner. Icestorm knew it, and it made him angry that it worked. His wings itched with anticipation.

Icestorm twisted as far as possible when he felt his trine mate being dragged into the room. From the sound of it Acid Storm was digging his peds in, forcing his guards to half carry him through the door. He was dropped into the seat next to Icestorm and two guards fixed his servos to the table.

Acid Storm was also snarling, wings held high and rigid. His spark was roiling with joy at seeing Icestorm, and fear at what the presence of his trine mate might mean. Icestorm strained the servo closest to the green seeker, digits reaching for him. Acid Storm twisted his own servo, allowing their digits to brush.

Both seekers began to struggle against the cuffs when they felt another mech enter. The Prime came around the table into their line of sight. Acid Storm growled, and Icestorm hissed angrily, but the Prime didn't react. Instead he sat himself down, giving the two mechs a nod. They glowered at him in return.

“I need your help.” Optimus had thought about how he wanted to start the conversation, and had decided that blunt honesty was the best method. “I need to know what happened before the war, in Vos. What the Autobots, the council, did.”

Icestorm glanced carefully at his trine mate. If looks could kill, the Prime would have keeled over with the force of Acid Storm’s glare. He looked back at the mech seated across the table. “Why should we tell you anything, Autobot?”

“I want to know. I have seven young seekers, including your trine mate, all of whom were upgraded too early and forced to fight a war.” He sighed. “I want to help them. I want them to have a chance at a normal life.”

“A normal life like the one they would have had before the war, you mean? A normal life like the seekers who we rescued from the Autobots?” Acid Storm snorted, too angry to stop the words pouring out. “A normal life as Autobot slaves?” He spat the word normal, as if it tasted unpleasant. The Prime flinched. Icestorm could not see his expression, but his field radiated disgust.

“I need you to tell me everything.” The Prime’s voice was low and commanding. “I need to prevent this happening again.” There was another snort from the green seeker.

“Prevent us rebelling again, you mean! Prevent us from being anything more than cheap labour or pretty pets for our grounder masters.” His voice rose from an angry hiss to a scream of fury. “We are seekers, we know only too well what grounders want.” His vocaliser shorted in a crackle of static and his vents heaved with his distress.

The Prime kept looking at them, field full of sorrow. He reached for Acid Storm's servo, stroking it, heedless of the sharp claws that flexed with the seeker’s anger.

“I’m sorry. I know it's inadequate, and doesn't come close to making amends, but I am sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Prime.” Acid Storm's vocaliser crackled over the words. “I can't forgive you. Try apologising to the seven sparklings you Autobots are holding for the sparklinghood you and your Autobots stole from them! Try apologising to Bitstream and Nacelle for their treatment at Sentinel Prime’s servo’s. Try apologising to Hotlink for the inventions you grounders stole and used to kill us with. Primus! Try apologising to Slipstream for the deaths of his trine mates! I'm not the one who can accept your 'sorry’!”

The Prime dropped his helm, field sad. He was still resting his servos on Acid Storm's, stroking the digits. He stopped abruptly, apparently realising what he was doing, and sat back. Watching the two mechs in front of him.

“Tell me about the sparklings. Please, I want to help them.”

“What do you want us to tell you, grounder?” Icestorm could feel Acid Storm's fury, and knew that his trine mate would harm himself if he didn't calm down. The Prime focused deep blue optics on him and the pale seeker sat up straighter, not wanting to appear cowed. “Do you want to hear about the kidnapping of sparklings from their creators when those mechs were deemed ‘unsuitable’ by your council because they didn't earn enough? Perhaps you want to know what happened to those sparklings, huh? How they were grounded and turned into pretty little slaves. Slaves with short, unhappy lives while their sparks screamed out for the sky? How creation bonds were severed by force so the little ones were left with an aching gap where those who loved them should have been. How they cried?”

The Prime dropped his helm lower, field shocked, saddened and angry. Icestorm pressed on remorselessly.

“Perhaps you prefer to hear how some mechs fooled you? How they hid their precious creations, like poor Thundercracker. Crammed them into tiny spaces, swaddled tight, with their vocalisers disconnected so their terrified screams didn't give them away.” His vents hitched in a sob, memories of his own sparklinghood threatening to overwhelm him.

The Prime was on his peds in a moment, crouching by Icestorm, murmuring words of comfort and petting his wings. Icestorm brought himself under control, resisting the urge to bawl like a sparkling. He grit his denta, venting evenly. Everything was just fine, he wasn’t upset, he was angry, that was it! He certainly wasn’t on the verge of panic with the stasis cuffs pinning him in place. Not at all.

“Get off him!” Acid Storm could feel his trine mate’s distress through the bond and in his field, however much he tried to hide it. The Prime gave him a mild look before gently deactivating Icestorm’s cuffs.

“I’ll let the two of you have a jour together, then we can talk again.” He deactivated Acid Storm’s stasis cuffs as well. “When I return, we need to talk about what happened in Vos, and about the sparklings.” Both seekers watched the Prime as he turned and left, rubbing their wrists. The door lock clicked and Acid Storm began scanning the room for the inevitable security camera.

******************************************************************************

Thundercracker looked up from the data pad he was struggling through when Prowl tapped on his door. He found that having his familiar bits and pieces around was surprisingly pleasant, even if the wing decorations had been hidden at the back of a drawer.

“Thundercracker, First Aid wants you to come to medbay and see Starscream now he's awake.” The blue mech stiffened so Prowl added. “He’s fine, but he wants to see that you and Skywarp are alright.” Prowl almost added that Thundercracker didn't have to come if he didn't want to, but the seeker was already setting aside his data pad, obviously desperate to see his trine mate.

Prowl stood away from the door as Thundercracker passed, placing a gentle servo on his closest wing. Thundercracker stopped and looked at him, unusually calm.

“Are you going to behave?” Thundercracker snorted slightly and gave a short nod. “Verbal communication, please.” Prowl gave a little sigh, doorwings twitching.

“Yeah.” Thundercracker shrugged one shoulder. The Autobot's insistence on making him talk was aggravating. He didn't want to talk to anyone outside his trine, especially not an Autobot. The advantage to being known as the quiet one within his own faction was that no stupid grounders would try to chatter inanely at him.

“Good.” Prowl led him towards the door, pausing to unlock it. “Come on.”

They walked in silence, which suited Thundercracker fine. Prowl's servo on his arm was annoying, but it was better than being dragged around in stasis cuffs. He ached to see Starscream awake again and wasn't about to do anything that might risk Prowl refusing to let him see his trine mate.

First Aid bustled up to them when they entered the medbay, greeting them cheerfully. “Do you want to sit on the medberth over there while we wait for Skywarp and Ironhide?” Thundercracker gave him a suspicious look, but Prowl tugged his arm again, steering him to the berth the medic had indicated. Prowl let go when he sat down, but stayed standing in front of him. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” He was tempted to answer with another half shrug, but Prowl would just tell him to answer out loud again. He tamped down on his annoyance, concentrating on the feel of Starscream close by. The lack of a recent sync had muted the trine bond, but he could feel his trine mate’s alertness. More strongly, he could feel when Skywarp entered the medbay and jumped to his peds, only to be gently restrained by Prowl. Skywarp was being carried by Ironhide again, but seemed quite calm about it. 

The big Autobot deposited Skywarp on the berth, giving his helm a quick stroke. Skywarp clicked worriedly as First Aid advanced on them, watching the medic with distrust.

“I just want to check your thrusters and see how well they are healing before I let you start standing and walking, okay?” At Skywarp's tense nod, he pulled a little light from his subspace and lifted one of Skywarp's peds. The dark seeker reached for Thundercracker's servo, clicking a request for a bit of comfort. Thundercracker reached back, engine rumbling soothingly, trying to keep the irritation he felt when Ironhide put his servos on Skywarp's shoulders out of his field. 

“All done.” First Aid put the second ped down, giving it a quick pat. “I’ll need to reconnect your anti-gravs, but I’m happy for you to try walking. If it hurts, or the pain gets worse, you need to tell Ironhide.” He was encouraging Skywarp to lie on his front as he spoke, motioning Thundercracker to assist in keeping his trine mate calm.

Thundercracker crooned reassurance at the younger seeker as First Aid started work. Skywarp twitched and shifted, but Ironhide rested one big servo on the back of Skywarp’s knee, which caused the black mech to still. Thundercracker couldn’t feel any additional fear from him, which slightly surprised the blue seeker.

First Aid finished, gently closing the plating of Skywarp’s thrusters and allowing the seeker to sit up again.

“Starscream?” Skywarp asked when he was he was seated again. Thundercracker hated how hopeful Skywarp looked, big optics peering up at the Autobots, but it seemed to work. First Aid's field went ridiculously soft and sappy.

“He wants to see you, but his optics, audials and vocaliser are all still offline. If you want to talk to him I can reconnect and retune your commlines.”

“Yes!” Skywarp spoke first, and Ironhide patted him on the shoulder, field full of approval. Thundercracker was not so sure. Skywarp had told him that his commline had been reconnected, albeit in a very limited manner, and that it hadn't hurt, but that had been Ratchet. He was at least a known quantity. Thundercracker barely trusted the chief medic and was still deeply suspicious of First Aid.

On the other servo, he really wanted to see and speak to Starscream. Plus, there was a tiny chance that if he was difficult enough, Prowl might let him keep the commline. Things would be much easier if he could talk to his trine mates whenever he wanted.

“Fine.” He growled, aware that all three Autobots were staring at him. Skywarp made an encouraging noise, assuring him that it didn't hurt. 

“Alright. Skywarp, do you want me to retune your comm? I'll add a third channel.” The seeker nodded, but didn't move. Ironhide pushed his shoulder, getting him to turn around, presenting his back to the medic. Skywarp tensed, making a nervous chirping noise, gripping Ironhide's servos. Thundercracker put an arm out to sneak around his trine mate’s waist, keeping a watchful optic on First Aid. The retuning didn’t take long, and First Aid turned to Thundercracker.

“Are you going to be ok with me reconnecting your comm?” Thundercracker wasn’t happy with it, but pride stiffened him, he was after all one of the Decepticon’s elite.

“Yeah.”

“Ok, you want to turn around for me?”

The procedure was carried out with minimal fuss, and Prowl allowed his hiked doorwings to relax. Both seekers obediently hopped from the berth and moved to the door of the secure medbay after the medic. Skywarp stumbled a little at first, balance re-adjusting to having his anti gravs back, but he recovered with the natural grace of a seeker.

“Do you think they are going to be alright?” Prowl murmured to Ironhide. The big Autobot put a comforting servo on his fellow officer’s shoulder.

“If ah know anythin’ ‘bout those kids, it’s that they’re tough an’ they bounce back. Seein’ Screamer’s more likely ta help than hurt ‘em.”

“You’re right, I’ve just got the calculations of how it can go wrong running at the back of my processor.”

*******************************************************************

Optimus sat in the guard station trying, and failing, to read an old social history text. He was fielding comm calls from Red Alert, which was not helping, but the writing style of the pad’s long-deactivated author was the main issue.

Red Alert was comming him again, as he had been every five clicks since Acid Storm had stood on his trine mate’s shoulders and ripped the main cameras off the walls of the interrogation room. The concealed cameras had been untouched, but Red Alert was still unhappy that Optimus had not allowed him to send a couple of guards into the room to make sure the seekers didn’t do any more damage.

Optimus sighed and sent a soothing response back over the comm. There was still at least half a jour of the promised time left, and he would not allow anything to interrupt the two seekers. Red Alert had told him that the two were curled up together in a corner of the cell. As long as they were not harming themselves or each other, the Prime wanted them to have the necessary time to reconnect.

He refocused on the data pad. He had set Teletraan to run through all the texts stored in its data banks, which had been collected from the couple of information nodes uncovered during the reconstruction work. He had prioritised the search terms “sparkling”, “Vos” and “Seeker,” in the hope of finding the most relevant texts. The nodes found had been local libraries, not public records, and had a lot of corrupted data from so long without maintenance. He had found one text on caring for traumatised sparklings which he had sent to the other six caretakers. It mostly dealt with the care of those in their first frame, but there were some more general hints which could be useful.

The data pad he was attempting to read was written in a style which managed to be both dry and hysterical. Its author was a middle class academic called Atomiser. His biography at the start of the text said he had worked for the High Council as an advisor for the social services division and was a tenured professor at the Iaconian Acadamy for Social Sciences.

Atomiser had been adamant that many of Cybertron’s issues had been due to low paid mechs refusing to know their place, and raising their sparklings in poverty. His solution, and the one which the social services division apparently agreed with, was that mechs earning under a certain income would give up their sparklings to the state, in exchange for a small sum of credits. The sparklings would be raised and trained by the state and would become “public servants” performing useful roles in society. The book featured interviews with several of these mechs who were low level enforcers, street cleaners and hospital porters, and all of whom were fulsome in their praise of the department of social services for saving them from a life of poverty and danger.

Acid Storm and Icestorm’s version of events was a little different, from the admittedly small details they had revealed. To Optimus, the data pad was reading as an attempt to justify a potentially unpopular policy. Maybe if he had read the text back when he had still been an archivist it would have made sense to him, but with the additional information he now had it made him...uncomfortable.

Red Alert pinged his comm again with yet another complaint. It wasn’t a different complaint, just a variation of the one he had been sending for the past twenty clicks. Acid Storm’s destruction of the main cameras had the side benefit (not that Red Alert saw it that way) of taking out the room’s microphone pick-ups. The practical upshot was that Red Alert couldn’t hear what the two seekers were saying to each other, and he wasn’t happy about it in the slightest. 

Optimus sent another soothing comm to his chief security officer and stood. The jour was nearly up, and he was hoping that the two seekers would be a bit more communicative.

He checked his chronometer again when he reached the interrogation room, pausing beside the door to give the two seekers a little more time. Then he punched in the unlock code, opening it.

Icestorm came barreling forward as soon as the door opened. He crashed into Optimus, who staggered back a step, catching the seeker around the waist. Acid Storm had moved as well, dodging around the Prime towards the open door. Spinning, Optimus grabbed at Acid Storm’s wing, but the seeker darted away, straight out the door…

Straight into two surprised guards. They lost no time in tackling the green seeker to the floor and re-cuffing his servos behind his back.

Optimus was grappling his own armful of struggling seeker. Icestorm was clawing and kicking, trying to break free, but he wasn’t a match for the Prime. Acid Storm was dragged into the room and dumped into a chair. The guards retreated at Optimus’ signal and the door locked behind them.

Optimus wrapped his arms around Icestorm, squeezing slightly until the pale blue seeker gave up and hung limp and angry from his arms.

“Are you going to behave?” Icestorm growled, but didn’t struggle further. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He sat the mech down next to his trinemate and moved around the table to deactivate Acid Storm’s cuffs again.

Both seekers glared at him again, but their fields were worried and uncertain. The escape attempt had been something Optimus had half expected, which was why he had two guards waiting outside the door, but he didn’t intend to make a big deal of it. It was natural for a prisoner to want to escape.

“So. Tell me what happened in Vos before the war.” 

“Many things happened in Vos before the war Prime.” Acid Storm’s cultured voice was sneering. “You will have to be a little more specific!”

“What happened to the sparklings born in Vos before the war?”

******************************************************

::Star?:: Thundercracker tested out the comm, looking down at the still form of his trine leader. He sent the series of blips and nonsense characters that made up the sparkling Vosian comm chatter.

::TC.:: Starscream’s sightless optics searched frantically for his trine mates. :: _I can’t see._ ::

:: _We know. Sky is here as well._ ::

::Star. _You look like slag!_ ::

:: _Thanks. I’m sure you’d look just as good if you’d been dragged out of a cell._ ::

:: _Are you alright?_ :: Skywarp reached to touch Starscream’s arm, but jerked his servo back when the white seeker twitched, field radiating pain. 

:: _Hurts._ ::

:: _I’m sorry._ :: Skywarp’s wings drooped. :: _I hate this. Can’t even touch you._ :: He flared his field out, offering wordless comfort, feeling Starscream relax slightly.

:: _What happened?_ :: Starscream wanted to know how his trine had been captured. :: _The ‘bots said Megatron is dead. How did you get captured?_ ::

:: _He is dead, Star._ :: Thundercracker shook his helm, though his trine mate couldn’t see it. :: _The Prime killed him._ :: Starscream’s field flared, fearful and a little angry. :: _The Autobots had me and Thrust’s trine grounded, and Sky didn’t have enough energon to warp away._ ::

:: _Soundwave surrendered._ :: Skywarp put in. :: _He said we couldn’t fight any more. He said we were done._ ::

:: _Coward!_ :: Starscream’s field was angry. :: _I wouldn’t have surrendered._ ::

:: _He said he was tired of fighting._ :: Skywarp’s field was uncertain. :: _He said the younglings should get to know peace._ ::

:: _I think he was talking about us. I think he knew about us._ :: Thundercracker tentatively gave voice to a thought he had been mulling over for a while. :: _He always tried to stop Megatron going too far when you fragged him off._ ::

:: _Do you think he told the Autobots?_ :: Skywarp asked. :: _Is that how they knew?_ ::

:: _They know? How?_ :: Starscream’s field became frightened again. :: _Frag. Do they just know about you? Or TC as well? Frag._ ::

:: _All of us._ :: Thundercracker tried to sooth his trine mates, Skywarp was becoming agitated as well. The ramifications of their situation had not really sunk in, but the Autobots knowing how young they really were had all sorts of unsettling undertones. :: _But they haven’t acted on it yet._ :: He paused. He didn't want to upset Starscream further, but felt compelled to warn him. :: _I think they know about you as well._ ::

:: _They had us in the cells for ages._ :: Skywarp put in, frowning. :: _I didn’t think we’d get out._ :: He whimpered, and Thundercracker moved to reassure him. :: _Everything started to get fuzzy, and I couldn’t sleep properly, but then the ‘bots dragged me to the medbay an’ started running tests._ ::

:: _They put us in stasis. I think they scanned our sparks then, but I don’t know why._ ::

:: _I thought they were going to kill us finally._ :: Skywarp’s wings were low. :: _I didn’t want to go mad in that cell!_ :: He shivered, remembering his captivity.

:: _Wait, they let you out? Why? What have they done to you?_ ::

:: _The Prime said he didn't want us locked up because we had been made to fight._ :: Skywarp hesitated, trying to put the nebulous concepts that the Prime had espoused into a form that his trine mate would understand. :: _He said it wasn't fair. I don't understand why, but he said it was right, and we needed to be... I don't know the word he said._ :: He clicked softly to himself, thinking. :: _He made us go and stay with different 'bots. TC is with Prowl and I’m with Ironhide. We are kind of prisoners, but not? We get locked in and we are not allowed out without a 'bot holding on to us, but it's in the 'bots rooms, not a cell._ ::

:: _I don't understand it, either._ :: Thundercracker allowed his confusion to show in his field. :: _I'm given fuel, three times a cycle, and I have my own room and berth and Prowl even lets me use the wash racks and watch stuff on the console. I don't have to stay in one room or anything like that, but I don't know what he wants in return. They put stasis generators on us, but they don't use them much._ ::

:: _I'm the same._ :: Skywarp added. :: _It's weird. Ironhide made me recharge in his berth once when I had a bad flux, and when we went back to the ship to get stuff a few cycles ago, but he didn't do anything either time._ ::

:: _Why?_ :: Starscream's field was equally confused. :: _The Autobots hate fliers. Grounders only want one thing from us._ :: His trine mates pressed together nervously, the full gravity of their situation weighing them down. Starscream was usually the one who put the facts together into a workable theory for them, and the habit of deferring to him was still strong.

:: _But they haven't done anything._ :: Skywarp gave a little chirp of confusion. :: _Ironhide said it was his job to protect me, but he didn't say why._ ::

:: _It doesn't make sense._ :: Thundercracker paused. :: _The old Prime had fliers, though. You think we are replacements for them?_ ::

:: _It seems likely. It would certainly explain why they are looking after you._ :: Starscream's field was angry. :: _They want you to stay calm when they hand you over to the Prime._ :: He fell silent, field flickering with too many emotions for Thundercracker and Skywarp to name. :: _What do you think they will do with me?_ ::

His trine mates shared a nervous look. If the Decepticons were still a viable force, then Starscream would be a high value prisoner and worth looking after. Now though, he was injured and only of value as a figurehead of a broken cause. All three seekers knew what Megatron would do in the circumstances. Hook had been good at patching prisoners up just enough that they could be used as a public spectacle.

:: _Maybe they want you for the Prime as well?_ :: Skywarp wasn't hopeful now he thought it through, but he tried to remain positive. 

:: _I just hope I can see the sky again._ :: Starscream's field was muted, not wanting to distress his trine further, but he was terrified. What better way for the Autobots to prove their domination once and for all than to publicly execute the most high ranking Decepticon left. Would they make his trine watch? He hoped not. :: _You will stay strong._ :: The command was directed as much to himself as to the other two seekers.

Skywarp suppressed a sob, reality breaking on him. He had not really thought about it before. No matter how gentle Ironhide had been with him so far, it was a means to an end for the Autobot and the idea of what would happen when they considered him to be suitably broken in was horrifying. Beside him Thundercracker was trembling, damaged field broadcasting his own distress clearly.

The woosh of the door opening, and the resulting change to the air pressure, made all three seekers startle.

:: _Who is it?_ :: Starscream was frightened, spark starting to flare again, but he brought himself back under control.

:: _Medic._ :: Thundercracker glared at First Aid, who seemed completely unfazed by the venomous look.

::Starscream needs some fuel.:: He informed them, opting to use the comm so the injured mech could hear him. ::I can prop him up so one of you can give it to him if you like.:: The berth began moving as he spoke, and Starscream's field flickered with pain again. ::I'm sorry, I know it hurts.::

Starscream took a couple of steadying in-vents, gritting his denta. First Aid handed Thundercracker a cube of filtered energon.

“Hold it nice and steady and let him sip it slowly. If he starts gulping it too quickly, take it away for a moment. If he drinks it too fast he’ll make himself sick. You happy with that?” Thundercracker nodded and First Aid's optics brightened in a smile. “Okay, I’ll let you get on with it. I’ll be back in twenty clicks.” He nodded at the seekers and left, shutting the door behind him.

:: _He's gone, Star._ :: Thundercracker warned him. :: _Do you want some energon?_ :: 

:: _Yes, please._ :: Starscream shifted restlessly, wincing slightly as his wings scraped across the surface of the berth. :: _My self repair is working hard._ ::

:: _He said you need to drink slowly._ :: Thundercracker warned, gently pressing the cube to his lips. Starscream tilted his helm back slightly and Thundercracker tipped it carefully, allowing a trickle out of the corner to dribble into his trine mate’s mouth. Starscream swallowed hungrily and Thundercracker allowed him a little bit more.

:: _They've got a flight sim._ :: Skywarp informed Starscream, wanting to turn his thoughts to something more cheerful. :: _We got it out of the ship. The one from the medbay._ ::

:: _Good._ :: There was a yearning in Starscream's field. A longing so strong it was almost tangible, but he tamped it down, taking a bigger gulp of energon to cover it.

:: _They found Sunstorm._ :: Skywarp fished for another topic. :: _And his trine mates. Shockwave put them in stasis._ ::

:: _Did Shockwave tell the 'bots what he did to Sunstorm? To all of us?_ :: Starscream couldn't stop the hatred he felt from manifesting when the scientist was mentioned. :: _I hope he is rusting in a dark cell!_ :: Thundercracker shared another look with Skywarp.

:: _Shockwave is dead according, to the 'bots. Apparently he refused to surrender._ ::

:: _He was braver than Soundwave, then!_ :: Starscream's words were acerbic, but his field was relieved. :: _Can't say I look forward to spending eternity in the pit with him, though. Brings a new terror to the thought of death!_ :: 

Skywarp whimpered slightly, moving forward, wanting to touch Starscream, to reassure himself that his trine mate was there. 

:: _Do you think they will let us see you again?_ :: Thundercracker wanted reassurance too, but he kept carefully feeding his trine mate sips of energon.

:: _Who knows._ :: Starscream sneered, face twisting into an ugly expression. :: _I suspect so, if they want me to tell them things and I won't._ :: Unbidden, the fear that the Autobots would have no issues torturing Skywarp and Thundercracker to make him talk rose. :: _I won't let them hurt you._ :: It was a bold promise, but he would tell plenty of believable lies to their enemies to protect his trine. He just hoped it would be enough to save them from at least a little bit of pain.

:: _We'll try and get you out._ :: Skywarp countered with an equally brave statement. :: _There must be a way to neutralise the stasis field. Maybe if we are far enough away._ :: He thought for a moment. :: _I could try running…_ ::

:: _No!_ :: Thundercracker's response was strong and immediate. :: _He'll hurt you for sure. I’ll try._ ::

:: _He said he'd make me stay in my room if I annoy him, but he said he doesn't hit._ :: Skywarp's tone and field were hopeful.

:: _Don't believe him._ :: Skywarp had always been more trusting than either him or Thundercracker. Starscream loved his trine mate for it, but it was a disadvantage at times like this.

:: _Not been hit yet!_ :: Skywarp didn’t often argue, but he was confident about this one. :: _Don’t think he wants to hit me!_ ::

:: _Doesn’t mean he won’t._ :: Thundercracker felt compelled to warn him.

:: _I know. But if he does he won’t hit as hard!_ :: Skywarp put his servo on Thundercracker’s wing, confident that he was correct. :: _Trust me!_ ::

The door opened again and Thundercracker growled when First Aid came in. The medic gave him an unreadable look as he crossed towards them. “Did he take all the energon?” Thundercracker nodded again, both he and Skywarp watching the medic carefully. First Aid switched to the commline. ::I’m going to have to kick you both out now. Starscream needs to rest.:: He gestured towards the door, but neither seeker moved. ::Now, please.:: Thundercracker growled, and Skywarp’s wings flared but they remained where they were. ::Do you want me to bring Ironhide and Prowl in?::

:: _Go._ :: Starscream put in. :: _Don’t worry about me._ :: First Aid looked puzzled, glancing between the three seekers, but Skywarp began moving towards the door. Thundercracker kept glaring, but followed, wings slumping. First Aid glanced back at the pale form on the berth and followed them.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people are angry, and upset.

“WHY ARE THEY EVEN ALLOWED TO HAVE COMMS?” 

Optimus and First Aid studiously avoided each others’ optics. Red Alert was clearly very upset and neither wanted to make it worse. Sparks crackled across his helm and he trembled in reaction. The Prime moved to comfort his security director as the red mech’s vocaliser spat static.

“I don’t know what they are saying to each other.” He took a gasping in-vent, trying to cool his internals as his fans screamed. “How can I keep everyone safe if I don’t know what they are saying to each other?” Optimus enveloped him a hug, wanting to calm him down.

“That is why we need you to translate.” Red Alert's fans stuttered and his field swam with confusion. “Please Red, you are one of the best code experts we have.” Optimus sighed. “I'm worried about all the seekers, the little bits of information we have are not good and I think we need to know what they are thinking about the situation.”

Red Alert slumped, pulling away from Optimus to sit back in his seat, helm resting in his servos. “I already tried to translate what they were saying earlier and I’ve come up with nothing. They don't even use standard forms of their own names, as far as I can tell. Without context to what they are talking about, I can't translate anything.”

“Sunstorm might know more,” First Aid suggested shyly. “He's just a sparkling, too.” Optimus nodded in agreement.

“I’ll ask Ratchet to see. We’ve got Jazz trying to translate Thundercracker's writing, and all the caretakers are working on the language they are using between themselves. That will help.” He smiled at the security director, who brightened slightly.

“I hope so, Prime.”

*********************************************************************************

Skywarp had been skittish on the walk back to their quarters. He kept tensing as if he was intending to bolt, but then seemingly thought better of the idea. Ironhide didn't say anything, not wanting to make the young mech more nervous. When they got inside Skywarp disappeared into his own room, shutting the door behind him. His caretaker opted to leave him to whatever he was doing, heading for the wash racks instead.

The seeker was nowhere to be seen ten clicks later, which was slightly unusual. Ironhide figured that he was taking the opportunity to have some time on his own after three cycles lying on the couch. He hoped that nothing had happened to upset Skywarp unduly and that having a channel to contact his trine mates on would help the young mech.

However, despite Skywarp’s apparent desire for solitude, Ironhide was not about to allow him to hide in his room all cycle.

“Sky, come an’ get ya energon.” Ironhide tapped on the door to Skywarp’s room, listening for a moment before moving away to dispense two cubes. Skywarp would be out in his own time.

He was seated on the couch with the two cubes already in front of him before Skywarp emerged. Ironhide didn’t turn around, but he could feel the seeker moving slowly, and more cautiously than was normal. Suddenly Skywarp darted into view, grabbed his cube and darted back, obviously about to take it back to his room.

“Sky!” Ironhide didn’t exactly snap the seeker’s name, but his bark stopped Skywarp in his tracks and the young mech cringed as though he was anticipating a blow. “Come back here and sit down to drink that, please.”

Skywarp turned reluctantly, wings held low, but he came back to the table and perched on the edge of a chair. Ironhide watched him carefully as he started sipping the cube. The seeker was clearly nervous, studiously avoiding looking at his caretaker. He fidgeted uncomfortably, obviously wanting to be somewhere else.

“Ya okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” Black wings twitched and Skywarp didn’t look up from where he was contemplating the cube, swirling it so that the additives glittered as they caught the light. Ironhide stood and put a gentle servo on the young seeker’s shoulder, frowning when Skywarp flinched.

“Ya sure? Ya don’t seem ok.” He stroked along the top edge of Skywarp’s closest wing, feeling it tremble slightly. “Come an’ sit with me.” He tugged the mech up and over to the couch. Skywarp wasn’t resisting, but he was stiff and plainly unhappy. “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothin’.”

“Sky.” Ironhide sighed gently. “Ya know ah don’t like ya lying.”

“Not lyin’!” Ironhide chuckled slightly wrapping an arm around Skywarp and giving him a little squeeze.

“Not only are ya lying, but ya’re slaggin’ bad at it, kiddo.” He shook his helm. “Now somethin’ gotcha wound up. What’s wrong?”

“S’nothin’.” There was a suggestion of sulkiness in Skywarp’s voice.

“Was it somethin’ that happened when ya saw Starscream? Did he say somethin’ ta ya?”

“No.” Skywarp hunched his shoulders, pulling away. “S’nothin’.”

“So he did say somethin’, then.” Ironhide wasn't especially surprised. Starscream was injured, hurting and probably terrified. If he hadn't said anything to Skywarp, Ironhide would have been amazed. “He's goin’ ta be fine Sky. Ah suspect he doesn't think so, but he will.” Skywarp gave a soft sob and Ironhide hugged him more tightly. “What did he say? If ya tell me ah can help.” 

“Don' want 'im t’die!” The confession was dragged out and Skywarp stiffened, cringing slightly.

“Ya know Ratch’ wouldn't bring him outta stasis if it wasn't safe ta do so?” He stroked the black wings again. “He’ll be okay. Ya can talk ta him any time ya want wi’ ya comm, ya realise?” From Skywarp's surprise, the seeker had clearly not realised that. “Oh, kid. Ya need ta talk 'bout stuff like this. Ah don't like it when ya get upset.”

Skywarp stifled another sob, straightening and pulling away. Ironhide let him, but kept a servo in contact with the dark plating.

“Blue’ is comin’ over later,” Ironhide warned after a click to allow Skywarp to calm a little more. Skywarp stiffened again, optics brightening and he pulled away. “Ratch’ and 'Aid both want ya ta get magnet treatment for ya wings now ya thrusters are healing.” Skywarp curled in on himself slightly. “Blue’ won't hurt ya.” The seeker turned his helm away, hiding his expression. Ironhide watched him for a click, still worried. “Ya okay?”

“Yeah.” It was obvious he wasn’t okay, but Ironhide could tell how stressed he was getting and didn’t want to press it for the moment.

“Hmmm, if ya sure.” Skywarp shrugged, still keeping his face turned away. “Ya want ta get somethin’ ta do? Ah’ll read ta ya again.”

“‘K.”

“Good kid.” Ironhide watched him dart back to his room, frowning slightly. He knew he hadn’t got even a part of the story, but he was willing to wait. Experience told him that pushing too hard and too fast would result in the seeker hiding away in his room for cycles again. He resolved to back off a little and allow Skywarp some space to calm down.

The young mech returned with a drawing pad and one of his small collection of data pads, which he presented to Ironhide. He deliberately picked a chair away from his caretaker and curled up, powering up the drawing pad. Ironhide huffed a soft laugh and activated the data pad, scanning the contents quickly. It wasn’t one he had read yet.

The story was a humorous one, and Skywarp eventually relaxed enough to give a soft giggle. Ironhide allowed himself to untense a little. He still had to hope that Skywarp would behave when Bluestreak arrived, and that he would allow Ironhide to apply the nanite gel to his thrusters with minimal fuss, but for now Skywarp was calming back down.

***************************************************

Starscream had gone silent. He hadn’t contacted the Prime for a full cycle, not even to toss out a random insulting comment. Intellectually, Optimus knew that the young seeker had mechs on three other channels to chat with, including his trine mates, but he found himself missing Starscream’s acidic wit.

He hadn’t meant Starscream to find out who he was so soon. He didn’t blame First Aid, there was no way the young medic could have known, and his intervention had absolutely been necessary. 

Optimus suspected that the revelation that the seeker had been unknowingly talking to (and insulting, but Starscream was unlikely to be so concerned about that) the Prime was what had led to the silence. Given the reaction of the other seekers to him, he wasn’t entirely surprised, but if he was going to take Starscream’s care on himself, he wanted to at least try to make the transition easier on the seeker.

::Starscream?:: He decided that he may as well see what damage had been done rather than waiting. ::How are you feeling?::

There was silence for two clicks and Optimus thought that the seeker was not going to respond. There was a chance he was in recharge and Optimus had deliberately not set the ping at a high priority. There was no busy signal though, so he was not using one of his other channels.

::Go away, I’m busy.::

Not terribly encouraging. Briefly, Optimus wondered what Starscream could be doing, but realised the seeker was probably trying to put him off. He decided call the young mech’s bluff.

::Oh, yes? What are you doing?::

::None of your business, Prime.::

Well. He had walked into that one with his optics open. Time to try a different tack.

::You didn’t answer my question.::

::No, I didn’t.::

The young seeker was clearly bent on not answering his questions or interacting with him at all. He sighed. No one had told Starscream anything about the current situation unless his trine mates had mentioned something, and even then Optimus doubted that they had provided him with the full story. Optimus wondered if he could talk to the mech about it without causing him to panic. He sent a quick ping to First Aid, just in case, and jumped in.

::Let’s start again, shall we?::

::Frag off!::

Optimus shuttered his optics, taking a deep vent and praying to Primus for patience. ::I need to talk to you, Starscream, and I would prefer to do so politely.::

::And I should do what you want, why…?::

::No reason, but the conversation will be easier if we both try to be civil, won’t it?::

::Except I don’t want a conversation with you and refer you to my previous reply.:: There was a click and Starscream cut the comm.

Optimus stood, and paced for a click, getting his irrational irritation under control. It was just because he was unused to being spoken to so rudely. Starscream was bored, terrified, hurting and angry, he just had to remember that. A couple more calm in-vents, and Optimus opened the comm again.

::Starscream.::

::Primus, will you STOP bothering me?:: There was a click as the seeker tried to drop the call again, but the Prime activated his override. 

::I’m not letting you do that again. I’ve got an officers’ override on your comm and I will use it because I need to talk to you.::

::What on Cybertron could you possibly need to talk to me about now? I’m sure you can wait for your torturer to extract the information from me.:: Optimus winced. Starscream had clearly got the wrong end of an entirely different stick. ::I don’t remember you being this keen to talk to me last time I was at your tender mercies!:: He winced again, making a mental note to talk to Jazz about what had happened the last time Starscream had been in Autobot captivity.

::I think you are misinformed about your situation.:: Starscream was silent so Optimus decided to plow onwards. ::We know that several of the seekers who served with the Decepticons are far too young to have been capable of making an informed choice about their involvement in the war. Including you and your trine.::

::Believe me Prime, the choices made by me and my trine were nothing if not informed!::

::I disagree. Sparklings in their first frame are in no way capable of making informed decisions, prematurely upgraded or not!::

::So tell me, Prime, whose fault is that? Do you think any of the sparklings who were ‘prematurely upgraded’ asked for it to happen?:: Optimus was surprised that the seeker had not instantly denied that he was effectively a youngling. ::Our choices were fully informed!::

::I disagree. But the fact remains that you are a youngling, barely an adult even now.::

::Hardly.:: The word somehow managed to convey Starscream’s sneering disdain for the whole conversation. 

::Starscream, I know you do not want to hear this, but a sparkling cannot make the choices you have been forced to make. You should never have been pushed into this war.::

::And just who do you think did the pushing, Autobot? When your council bombed my home? When you Autobots targeted our orphanages? The push was not from Vos, or the Decepticons. You have only yourselves to blame!::

Optimus was silent for a click, wanting to allow the young mech time to calm down slightly. Acid Storm and Icestorm had mentioned that the young seekers had been upgraded for their ‘protection’, and had spoken of the bombing of Vos, but not about any ‘orphanages’. It was something he would need to look at.

::It doesn’t matter why it happened.:: He opted to deescalate the discussion, wanting to get back to explaining to Starscream what was going to happen next. ::You are a youngling and you haven’t had a chance to learn anything other than how to fight. We are not prepared to keep you locked up, but equally, you are in no way equipped to function in a post-war society.::

::I presume you do HAVE a point?::

::Your trine are being cared for by two of my most trusted officers. We are hoping to rehabilitate them and enable them to function in the society we are rebuilding.:: He paused, gathering his thoughts. ::You deserve the same chance. My officers and I have agreed that I am best placed to look after you.:: He paused again to see whether the seeker would say anything. ::When the medics clear you I’m going to take you back to my quarters and get you settled.::

::Exactly what I would expect of a Prime.:: There was clearly a deeper context behind Starscream’s words, but before he could ask for clarification, Starscream’s comm pinged again. ::And what if I refuse your ‘generous’ offer?::

::We are not willing to keep you imprisoned...Or kill you.::

::Hmm, so I don’t have a choice? How very...Autobot...of you.::

::The war is over, Starscream. We all need time to heal and to learn how to function as a society again.::

::Yes...an Autobot society, just as if the war never happened. Lovely. Something for all us poor lowly Decepticons to look forward to as you grind our faces in the dust again.::

::Starscream…::

::Save it, Autobot! The war isn’t over, it never will be while I’m alive. You’ll have to kill me first!:: There was a click as Starscream closed the comm again, leaving Optimus with a deep sense of foreboding.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ruins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472870) by [CheerfullyMorbid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerfullyMorbid/pseuds/CheerfullyMorbid)




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